Alone Together
by Aisling Moon
Summary: Dick Grayson's parents died when he was six, leaving him to the mercy of the streets. Four years later, he meets Batman under rather unsual circumstances. Will Dick learn to trust him? This revolves around Dick living on the streets and interacting with various heroes and villains.
1. Chapter 1

This is a new story that will(hopefully) become a series. If it's pretty well-received, I'll continue it, if not, eh... maybe.

If this does continue, I have to apologize for the amount of time between updates. I'm in every honors class I could cram in and well, it's... hard. This is kind of my escape.

Anyway, Hope you enjoy and I do not own any characters or places associated with or owned by DC comics.

The title and somewhat plot is taken from "Alone Together" by Fall Out Boy

P.S. Yes, I know I'm messing with times and characters and events, but this is AU anyway, so what do I care?

* * *

Richard Grayson, also known as Dick Grayson, had been on his own for more than five years now. When his parents died he was only six, and the cruel shock broke his soul into pieces. Almost immediately after his parents death, he was forcibly taken away from his home, Haley's Circus and sent to Gotham Juvie for close to six months, the broken shards were ground into dust.

Now the former acrobat lived on the streets, getting by on scraps and stolen money. He was always hungry, but for some reason, being on the streets, able to go anywhere, was remarkably freeing. Cold, lonely, dirty, but free. Not all days were good, for various reasons.

Today for example, he was running for his life from an extremely angry man, currently missing his wallet and gold watch. Dick cursed himself, wishing he had never gone back for the watch. Overconfidence was a killer, Dick thought as he dodged a trash can and flung himself onto the nearest fire escape. Quickly, he kicked the rust-infested ladder twice and it clanged loudly as it crashed to the ground.

With a self-satisfied smirk, he turned and raced up the remaining stairs, ignoring the fierce yells from below as he reached the rooftops and started dashing across them.

Dick leapt from one roof top to another, bare feet hardly touching the ground as he flew beneath the gray November sky. Although he never flew on the trapeze nowadays, he could flip the edges of rooftops and for a moment, feel as if he was home again.

Speaking of home, Dick noticed that the gray skies were darkening, heralding snow in the near future. As he turned towards the dark alleys in the back streets of Gotham, where only deranged lunatics or helpless idiots lived. Dick was the sole exception to the rule as far as he could tell.

When Dick jumped off the roof and landed softly, bending his knees before standing up, he looked at the menacing skies again and groaned, knowing that once the snow started, he would start running the risk of getting frostbite. His last pair of shoes finally collapsed at the start of spring, and only once the snow hit would it be an issue. This year, he would either find new shoes or try to get by on what food he had stocked up in his hide away.

Glancing around, Dick made sure no one was around before shifting aside an old grimy dumpster and sliding into the hole behind it. Dick had discovered this 2 months after he started living on the streets.

* * *

Stumbling around, looking for a scrap of food, Dick had spotted the dumpster and wobbled towards it, dizzy from lack of food. Right before he reached up to open the dumpsters top, the world suddenly started tilting and Dick felt his legs give out beneath him and saw the filthy green of the dumpster's side come rushing towards his face.

Dick caught his balance as the last second, grabbing onto the dumpster while he fell and inadvertently pushing it out of the way. With a horrible grinding sound the wheels moved and revealed the black maw of the hole in the wall.

Curious, Dick slipped inside and squirmed a few feet until he felt his shoulders break free of the small tunnel and he pushed the rest of his body through. When he stood up and brushed himself off, Dick's mouth fell open in shock, unable to believe the sight before him. The tunnel had opened up into a small cave, probably part of an old subway, judging from the tracks in the floor. The brickwork was crumbling in a few places, letting in light from God knows where.

Dick spent the rest of spring and summer fixing up the cave so he could actually live in it during the harsh winter. The cave had a few natural crevasses that were cold enough to store food in most of the year and the worn out blankets bunched together in one corner served as a nest of sorts, a place to lounge and sleep, where Dick didn't have to worry about anyone sneaking up on him. There were several entrances to the cave, and all but one was only large enough for a child to fit through. The last one was the arch where the trains used to come in, but it had mostly collapsed and was well hidden with some cleverly placed debris. And from then on, Dick had hidden away in his cave whenever he wasn't out stealing food and money or honing his reflexes on the streets of Gotham. After all, a slow thief is a dead thief.

The money was removed from the wallet and hid behind a brick, and the wallet was thrown into a pile that would be burned soon, after all, what on earth would Dick need a wallet for? It's not like he had anything but stolen money and that was usually hidden in a pocket he made in his shirt, so nobody would find it.

A small portion of mostly dry bread and a slice of apple was the only food Dick had since the half a bagel he found this morning. His stomach was growling protests at him, but Dick ignored it, knowing if he didn't ration his food now, he may starve before winter gives up its icy hold on the city.

The next night, he would have so much more to worry about than surviving the winter. In fact, the main thought that went through Dick's head that night was "I hope I live to see tomorrow".

* * *

It had never snowed and had actually warmed up a bit, so Dick decided to head out and grab whatever he could before the weather took a nose dive. So far he had 50 bucks and two loaves of bread, along with a heavy conscience. Dick's parents had been fundamentally good people, raising their son to be good as well. So every time he stole something, Dick felt a twinge in his chest, the only feeling he ever seemed to have these days.

Dick leaned against a chimney and grinned humorlessly. Six months after his parents deaths, he escaped from Juvie. Dick thought he would have been elated to be free of that horrible place but instead he felt nothing. A bleak emptiness had filled his life since then, and the only things he ever felt now were guilt, fear, and on increasingly rare occasions, a light airy feeling when he raced across rooftops. Otherwise, Dick covered up the emptiness with snark and smiles, hiding himself from the world.

He couldn't even remember the last time he had smiled because he was honestly happy.

Dick shook his head violently, to rid himself of such depressing thoughts. It was useless to bring himself down, especially when a perfect mark was walking below him in the street. Long trench coat, hat pulled down and money slightly protruding from his pocket. Dick smirked and thought, Too easy.

As the man walked further away from the main part of the city, Dick became increasingly confident that this would be an easy steal, in and out before the man even registered his lighter pocket.

Dick ran slightly ahead of the man and jumped onto a lower roof and then straight to the ground, rolling to mask the sound of his landing. He ducked behind a corner and curled himself into a tiny ball, as if he were just another homeless person, desperate for warmth on the street.

The man rounded the corner and at the same moment, Dick stood up, walking into him and getting caught in a tangle of limbs. Violent cursing ensued followed by Dick's apologies, stuttered and fast. He backed away with his hands up and the man cast him one last look before giving a disgruntled snort and roughly brushing past Dick as he left. Dick fell to the ground and stayed there, pretending to be hurt, even whimpering softly as the man stomped out of sight.

Once he was sure the man was gone, Dick unfurled himself and surreptitiously patted his side, where he felt the slight bulk of the money in the hidden pocket. One more glance around the filthy alley way and then Dick was racing back home, one hand firmly on his ribs. After all, it would be a waste if the money fell out while he was running home.

* * *

Before he actually returned to his cave, Dick stopped at a local diner, a pretty respectable place for being located in the back streets of Gotham. Dick knew one of the owners, Tanner, absolutely hated him and forcefully removed him from the shop if he ever came by. Which is why Dick always risked waiting until dark to come to the store, because then Tanner's wife, Amy, would be working.

Amy was a willowy woman, tall with brown hair and eyes, and always willing to feed Dick leftovers from the day. She faintly reminded him of his mother, but he always quickly got rid of that thought. Dick didn't need any reminders of what he'd lost, much less from the only woman who ever offered him food, even if it was only scraps.

Actually, he had to work for his scraps, but it was pretty easy work, just sweeping up and washing dishes. It didn't take that long, so Dick was usually out of the shop within a half an hour with his stomach full.

* * *

Tonight was business as usual, and Dick left full of stale bread and cheese. He even bought a small donut, just because today would probably be one of the last days outside. Might as well treat himself.

Dick licked up the final crumbs of the donut from his hands, relishing in the sweet taste, totally oblivious to the person behind him until it was too late.

The blow to his head sent Dick reeling and stumbling to his knees. He was roughly pulled up by a meaty hand and turned to face his attacker.

The man from earlier was standing next to the brute holding Dick off the ground by his arm. Dick gulped and struggled to free himself from the large man. All he got was a throbbing arm and a lack of breath. Where did all the oxygen go? Shouldn't it be here? Or maybe it was because the meaty hand on his arm had moved to his neck.

Huh. As the world turned black, the only thing that passed through Dick's mind, was that he wished he could've hidden the money first.

* * *

Consciousness came in the form of a baseball bat to the side of his head. Dick's eyes snapped open and he grunted in pain, feeling blood dribble down his face.

Eyelids fluttering, Dick finally managed to open his eyes to see the person holding the baseball bat. And boy, did Dick wish he never opened them.

At first, the only thing Dick was worried about was the man in the white suit holding the baseball bat. He was pretty tall and well built, with black hair and brown eyes. Then the man turned to face Dick.

The other half of his face was a grotesque mishmash of burn scars and exposed muscle, the sight of it nearly forcing Dick to vomit. The man's suit was split in half, a perfect mirror of each other with opposing colors. Black where white should be and white were black was.

Two-Face. Formerly known as Harvey Dent.

"Hello little boy. Did you have a nice trip? I heard you stole something from one of my men and he would very much like it back. So where did you hide it?" The grin was meant to be reassuring but was terrifying instead and Dick nearly said so. Instead he spat out,

"I'll tell you when I care." A very very stupid thing to say. That nervous sarcasm was sure to kill him someday.

The baseball bat once more collided with his face, prompting Dick to start coughing.

Maybe someday was today.

Three more hits connected before a new sound besides grunts of pain and thuds of wood on flesh entered Dick's ears.

Odd, it almost sounded like... glass shattering.

In the next second to many things happened for Dick to process but what he did understand was this;

He was no longer being beaten.

Someone was beating up Two-Face and his men.

That someone was Batman.

* * *

This time when Dick became conscious again, it was to the soft rumbling of an engine and the gentle bumping of riding in a car. He cautiously listened before opening his eyes, after hearing nothing that was immediately dangerous. The sight that greeted Dick was strange enough for him to jump up and almost crack his head on the window.

Of the freaking Batmobile.

Batman(The Batman) gave the barest hint of a smirk, before saying, "You should be careful with your head. You have a nasty concussion."

Now that he mentioned it, Dick was feeling nauseous. And like someone was running a truck repeatedly over his head. Ow.

"Are you alright?" Batman asked in a slightly quieter tone, seeing the look of pain flash across Dick's face. Quickly, Dick schooled his features and shot back,

"Well, I was beaten with a baseball bat by a crazy guy, have a concussion, and I'm not sitting with the most lethal superhero of the League. So just asterous."

"Asterous?" Batman asked, giving another quick glance at Dick. The boy looked exhausted and in pain, but was hiding it well, with a snarky grin. Batman still noticed though. They don't call him "the world's greatest detective" for nothing.

"Opposite of disastrous. So basically, everything's great. Fine. Perfect. Can you let me out now? We're getting near my house."

"This is where you live?" Batman wasn't surprised, not really. The kid was dressed in rags and had no shoes. The bandages on his head were cleaner than the rest of him and he was light. Much, much too light. And his age was mostly undiscernable, because he was very small, no taller than 4'7", but spoke like someone years older.

Batman stopped the Batmobile, spinning it once around as it skidded to a halt. He looked over at Dick once more, watching silently as the boy unfastened the seatbelt and pulled on the handle to open the door.

Before Dick could jump out, Batman grabbed his arm and started him in the eyes. It felt as if Batman were reaching for his soul.

But Dick didn't have one. Not anymore.

So he turned away and pulled out of Batman's grasp, hopping onto the wet pavement. Apparently it had started snowing while Dick had been out. He shivered once and then pulled a smile out of nowhere.

"Thanks for the rescue, Batman." All Dick got was that trace of a grin again and a muttered warning.

"Try not to make a habit of it." There was no heat behind it, and as Batman drove into the shadows, Dick felt a pang in his chest. One he hadn't felt in a long time.

Who'd have thought it would take the Dark Knight to make a little boy with no heart want to belong again?

* * *

A/N: Well, that turned out longer than I thought. I think I spent a lot of time on descriptions. And speaking of time, I should've been asleep hours ago. Need to be well rested for my AP test tomorrow. Agh.

Anyway, please review and let me know what you think.

Love it? Hate it? Suggestions?


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Wow I can't believe the number of responses this has gotten. I'm soooooo happy! Honestly to everyone who reviewed, you made my day, and my days haven't been so great lately.

Also, I got a lot of guest reviews. I think I got more guest reviews than reviews from people with accounts. That's totally fine, I'm not trying to discourage anyone, but still... weird.

* * *

Dick couldn't believe his luck. What were the chances that the woman who's purse he stole was knew some guy who worked for this really scary lady?

What was her name? Some kind of... bug. Oh well, not important right now.

Dick was much more concerned with the gun pointed at his chest and running to avoid being shot. Yeah, not getting killed sounded like a great idea right now. Especially when he already had a sprained ankle and man, that was making running hard.

And as he heard the gun ring out again, all Dick thought was that he wished he'd run faster. Maybe he'd have made it to his original destination.

And someone there would have helped him. That's what super heroes are for right?

* * *

A week and four days after his encounter with Batman, Dick was finally able to leave the cave.

The snow had come down hard and fast, blocking off most of the exits overnight. That was fine by him, as Dick had all he needed with him.

Mangy, moth eaten and threadbare blankets did virtually nothing to stave off cold unless you had twenty of them piled in a jumbled nest that trapped heat pretty well. As for food, Dick had enough to keep going for another week or two, maybe three if he ate less than normal, which was already much less than was healthy.

Water had been Dick's main concern for a while, after all he was staying in a cave untouched for years. Any and all water puddles were sure to be deadly or at least make Dick too sick to move or eat, which would just mean a slower death.

His solution came in the form of an accidental (really, it was a total accident) explosion. Dick had stolen some punk's bag, which had been full of things he didn't need. The cash and food was quickly taken out and that left the drugs (there was no way that Dick would even think to try them. He knew what would happen) and the dynamite.

What that idiot was doing with dynamite, Dick will never know, but apparently it wasn't safe in Dick's hands either, because when he was holding up the dynamite to get a closer look at it, he hit it off the wall.

The resulting explosion knocked him backwards and gave him several bloody scrapes and a ringing headache, but the reward was totally worth it.

Water burst out of the wall where it had been cracked open by the dynamite. As far as Dick could tell, there was some sort of underground spring, deep enough that it hadn't been polluted by building crews working on the subway.

Essentially Dick had everything he needed to live on his own for weeks at a time. Unfortunately, Dick wasn't the type of person who could do nothing. He had to be moving, moving, moving all the time.

The cave was probably big enough to fit four school buses side by side in it and have a little extra room on top. The debris was scattered around the room and was fun to climb on and in. There were tunnels in the walls, but those were a bad idea. Some of them lead to nowhere, others to places no human should be.

So at some point, Dick was going to have to get up and move.

Today was the day that Dick had to get outside. He had gotten so bored in the cave, that he started talking to himself. That was usually the point at which Dick would go out on the streets. He didn't want to go crazy(er) and being around strangers always made him quiet.

Dick poked his head out from the tunnel, the one that opened into the current subway. The opening was pretty close to the subway entrance so Dick could slip out onto the streets unnoticed, just another person taking the subway.

The streets were unusually crowded today, and Dick kept getting bounced around the crowds. Dick cursed under his breath while wishing he was taller. Usually he was happy that he was small, as it helped him get away but now that he was being bounced around people like a ping pong ball, Dick just wanted to be tall enough for people to actually notice him. Or at least tall enough that Dick could figure out what was going on.

Finally, Dick broke free of the crowd and dashed into an alley nearby. The fire escape provided a means to get to the rooftops and Dick could see why so many people were gathered here today.

A large stage had been set up in the heart of Gotham park, oddly clean and bright in contrast to the dark city around it. The stage had only a few people on it but everyone here knew who they were, including Dick.

Superman stood in the center of the stage, behind a podium. From here, Dick couldn't hear what he was saying but he seemed unusually serious. The man of steel was usually all smiles and light, but today he was somber and determined. On the stage around him stood four other heroes.

Green Arrow and Black Canary stood on Superman's left and the Flash stood to his right. Dick frowned. Had he miscounted? Then he saw the fourth hero, standing in the shadows on the far right of the stage.

Batman stood with his arms crossed, looking dark and terrifying even without the night's shadows to aid him. Almost everyone thought he was probably just as terrifying in the sunlight, but Dick thought he seemed almost uncomfortable to be on stage in the middle of the day. To his surprise, Dick found himself grinning at the thought of Batman having stage fright. Dick had never had stage fright, because being an acrobat that's afraid of performing just doesn't work.

Dick shook himself, trying to erase the images of his family that sprung up unbidden at the thought of performing. Instead, he tried to figure out what Superman was saying. Dick was still too far away to hear very well, and only caught a couple words here and there.

"Dangerous... infiltrated Gotham... watch out for..." Dick frowned as he tried to figure out what Superman meant. Unable to piece together the information, Dick ran until he was on a rooftop right in front of the stage, probably a hundred feet away.

Now Dick could clearly hear what Superman was saying, and it wasn't anything pleasant. It explained why Superman looked so somber today.

"Criminal mastermind and her minions are Biyalian soldiers typically. They have a tattoo on their arm in the shape of a hornet. If you see any of these men, do not provoke them. Immediately report to the police and return to your house or another safe building. Thank you for listening."

As soon as Superman stopped speaking, reporters swarmed the stage, screaming out questions over top of one another. Dick was about to turn away and disappear back into the streets when he noticed that Batman was looking at him.

Dick jumped back away from the edge of the roof before cautiously sneaking forward again. This time, the Dark Knight was looking at the reporters, answering one of their questions.

Of course Batman wasn't looking at him. Dick jumped down onto the fire escape and flipped to the ground. Mentally berating himself, Dick sprinted away from the park, back towards the subway he came from.

* * *

Hours later, Dick was sixty-three dollars richer and had a hot dog in his stomach. The hot dog was a lucky find. The previous owner had just bought the hot dog when he dropped it on the ground. The guy cursed and went back to buy another and Dick swooped in and took it. The dirt just added texture.

Dick was just finishing off the bun when he saw an almost comically easy target. A young woman was drinking coffee in front of the cafe across the street from Dick, her purse on the chair beside her. She got up to throw away her cup and Dick moved.

Before he knew it, Dick was hiding in an alleyway with the purse clutched tightly to his chest. The enraged screams of the woman were fading and Dick let out a relieved sigh.

The late afternoon sun shone in Dick's eyes as he left the alley, blinding him to the impending attack. The knee hit his stomach hard and Dick doubled over, putting up one arm in a weak attempt to defend himself.

Another blow came, this time to the back of his neck and Dick collapsed. The world spun as Dick felt himself being picked up and shoved against the wall. The brick scraped his back and made his already tender neck throb.

"Di pus titel ti feth." The man spat the words at Dick, confusing him even further. A man he didn't know was shoving him against a wall and speaking gibberish.

The man spoke more garbled sentences and Dick sputtered, trying to find words to reply and failing miserably. All his attempts to speak immediately halted when he saw the man's arm.

The man's shirt sleeves had been torn off, and now proudly showcased a black hornet. The ink stood out against the man's tan skin, startling in it's clarity. Suddenly the man spoke one horrifying sentence in English, broken as it may be.

"You dare steal purse from sister?"

Dick groaned, both from pain and in exasperation. This sort of thing always happened to him. Steal a woman's purse and she's related to a crime boss or underling or soldier or cop.

For now, Dick had to focus on escaping the man that was dangling him off the ground. His sight had come back and the first thing Dick did was kick the man hard in the ribs.

The man howled and dropped him, allowing Dick to get two punches in before he hit the ground running. Dick stumbled and hissed as he sped away from the disoriented man. Cursing, Dick realized he must have twisted his ankle when he fell, probably spraining it.

A loud bang distracted him from his ankle, forcing Dick to dive to the left to avoid a bullet aimed at his leg. Of course. The insane Biyalian had a gun. Just his luck.

Doing some quick calculations in his head, Dick figured he was probably three minutes from the park where the heroes had been earlier. He had no idea if they would still be there, but Dick knew he had little chance of actually beating an armed, highly trained soldier with a sprained ankle and possibly broken ribs.

So he ran. Ran until he forgot how to breathe, until he saw stars, until his legs felt like giving out. And then he kept running.

Four more gunshots went off by the time that Dick could actually see the park. Two had completely missed him, one had grazed his left arm, and one had gone straight through part of his calf. It burned like his leg had been dropped in lava and left there for a few minutes, although the blood wasn't flowing as fast as Dick thought it would.

Funny, it flowed so fast when they died. He couldn't even begin to try and keep in all that precious red by the time it was too late.

Swallowing hard, Dick pushed himself faster. Always faster. He had to be faster now, because he'd always been too slow. And he was still too slow now.

This time Dick saw the attack before it hit and managed to throw himself to the side to avoid it. Unfortunately, he lost his balance when he did it and ended up on his back with a gun pointed at his chest.

It was as if everything had been plunged underwater. Noises were muted and everything moved slower, including the soldier's finger on the trigger. Dick watched as the man pulled the trigger, not shrinking away.

If he was going to die, he was going to stare death in the face and say, "Come get me."

* * *

The bullet never came. The gun went off for sure, and the bullet left the chamber, but it never pierced through Dick's chest.

Instead, it harmlessly crumpled against something harder than steel. Dick was also nowhere near the bullet's path. He was actually on the other side of the street, utterly bewildered. The scene in front of him made no sense. Just the fact that there was a scene in front of him made Dick absent mindedly put a hand to his chest to feel for a bullet wound that wasn't there as he watched the action.

Superman was standing in front of the soldier, one hand casually on his gun. As Dick watched with surprise, Superman bent the gun back towards it's owner and then slammed his fist into the man's chin.

The soldier collapsed with no more than a small grunt and laid there unconscious. Pity. Dick wished he'd suffered a bit more before he passed out.

Dick's vision was suddenly filled with red and he jerked back in surprise.

"Oh geez! I'm sorry I totally didn'tmeantodothatandI'mreallysorrykid-"

"Shut up Flash." Batman glared at the man who abruptly shut his mouth. The glare then turned to Dick where it changed from anger to... concern?

"I thought we agreed this wouldn't happen again." Ah, nope. Definitely anger.

In response, Dick glared back and hissed, "Do you want me to apologize for being attacked by some crazy guy who doesn't even speak English to explain why he's attacking me?"

Both Superman and Flash seemed surprised at his retort, but Batman kept up his mask of indifference. "I think you knew exactly why he was attacking you."

"Nope. Was he on drugs? Or maybe he was an Arkham escapee. They like to speak nonsense and attack random people on the street." Batman's eyes tightened at Dick's offhanded comments and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Do you know this kid Bats?" Flash asked as he peered around the Dark Knight to get a look at the kid who would willingly stand against Batman. Even Superman flinches under Batman's glare and this kid just returned it tenfold.

"We've met." Batman and Dick say at the same time, prompting a smile from the Man of Steel. "What's your name?" Cobalt blue eyes turned towards Superman and the gaze seemed far too old for a child.

"Dick." Superman jumped and was about to reprimand the boy before Batman interjected, "It used to be a common nickname for Richard."

"Oh. Well, nice to meet you Dick. I'm-"

"Superman. Man of Steel. Faster than a speeding bullet and not a bird or a plane." Dick interrupted as he pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly. "I've heard about you."

"Are you alright?" Batman asked, before Superman had a chance to reply. Dick leaned hard against the wall behind him, fighting to remain standing as the adrenaline left his system. All he wanted to do was go back to the cave and snuggle in his pile of blankets. Instead, he said the first reaction he always has when someone asks him that. "I'm fine."

Batman looked over him and then bluntly said, "I've seen a lot of people who are fine. You are not one of them." Dick opened his mouth to argue but Batman just kept talking over him. "You have been shot twice and judging from how you're standing, your ankle has been hurt as well as your ribs. You are not fine, okay or," the Dark Knight paused for a moment before leaning in closer to Dick and muttering, "asterous, as you put it last time."

Batman stood again and glared at Dick. "You are going to come be treated for your injuries and then you can go." Dick was going to protest but he did feel really awful. With a sigh, he pushed off the side of the building and walked up to the Dark Knight. The mini-war that occurred between their glares went unnoticed by the other two and after Dick lost, he found himself being led towards the park.

Instead of going up to the stage, the heroes and Dick walked behind it, and Batman pressed a button on a fob he had pulled out of nowhere. The sound of roaring tires suddenly filled the air and the Batmobile came flying out of a side street to stop in front of the heroes.

Batman opened the hatch and pulled out a medical kit, which opened to reveal gauze and bandages, among other medical supplies. He handed the pain pills to Flash and told him to get two and run to find a bottle of water. Instantly he was gone and Batman turned to Dick and told him to roll up his pants.

Luckily(or not depending on how you look at it), the bullet had gone through the calf of his right leg, the same one that had the sprained ankle. Batman flushed the wound and quickly gave it a few stitches before wrapping Dick's ankle. He did the same for his arm before asking Superman to check for broken ribs.

"None. And your ankle definitely isn't broken." Batman nodded and just then Flash reappeared with water and handed both the pills and water to Dick. He swallowed them quickly and then guzzled the rest of the water.

"Can I go now?" Dick was getting uncomfortable being this close to people for so long. Aside from fights or random conversations, Dick had barely interacted with anyone for the past years he'd been on the streets.

Batman seemed to sense his discomfort and nodded, allowing Dick to once again vanish into the streets, becoming one of many shadows that filled the alleys as the sun finally set and gave way to the night.

As he left, he heard Superman and Flash arguing with Batman over letting him go.

"He's a child and he's wounded and you just let him wander off?" Batman fixed the other heroes with a cold stare and then turned towards the Batmobile and hopped in. Before the hatch closed over him, Batman said one last thing to the fuming Superman.

"I trust him."

* * *

Dick made it back home in one piece and as he flopped into his nest after stashing the money, the painkillers kicked in, muting the screaming pain in his leg and chest to a dull roar.

The day could have gone worse, all in all. He wasn't dead for starters, and he had actually held a conversation with someone.

And although he'd never admit it to anyone, Dick was ecstatic that he had talked to the heroes.

To him, it meant that maybe, someone actually cared whether he lived or just dropped dead in an alley. No one had done that since the circus, and that was years ago

Years of being alone made him jaded and cold, but the thought of seeing Superman or Flash again made him feel a little lighter. The thought of Batman's parting words brought memories of his father, so Dick pushed all thoughts away and let his mind drift.

Dick finally fell asleep with the thought of gentle hands on his chest. The hands that were so similar to his father's but had the scent of battle and shadows on them.

He didn't dream.

* * *

A/N: I really need to stop posting things at eleven. Especially when I have school tomorrow. And should be sleeping. Ugh. Someone save me!

I might include Queen Bee(that's the scary lady) sometime later, but I couldn't work her into the story well so I'll save her for another time.

Please review! It makes me happy beyond words!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Hey look, I'm not dead! Yay!

I was really sick for a week and spent a lot of time making up the schoolwork. But I love everyone who reviewed and liked, you kept me going! :D

So many people have reviewed and it makes me so happy, I say it every time, but it never gets less true.

Okay, so I'm not totally sure where the story is going at the moment, as I just kind of write when something comes to me. Most of my ideas seem to be later in the story, but I need to get to that point first. If anyone has any ideas or things they want to see please review.

I can't promise that I'll write it, but sometimes ideas will give me other ideas or are just interesting.

This chapter contains description of murder and various wounds and a lot of blood. If this offends or frightens anyone, please do not read this chapter.

I do not own any characters or places associated with DC, and good thing too. If I owned them, well, those poor, poor heroes.

Anyway, on with the story!

* * *

Healing wounds are very annoying. They itch and and pull when you move. It's easy to open them up again with any sudden movements and when you worked the streets for a living, you're almost constantly on the move.

Dick cursed under his breath as he felt the warm gush of blood on his arm, immediately bringing up his hand and applying pressure. That was the fifth stitch to rip out in the past two days, and that was just his arm.

His calf had been similarly sew up, but since the wound went all the way through, it tended to bleed more than the shallow graze on his arm. Three of the five ripped stitches had been ripped out of his leg, mostly because Dick didn't realize running would tear it open.

Yeah, that whole thing about hindsight being 20/20? Definitely true. And most people learn from the mistakes they made. Dick? Well...

Dick really needed glasses.

Bright lights shone on his face, gentle beams of comfort. The white and red walls spun as the boy flipped, and then fell through the air. No worries though.

After all, his parents would catch him.

Sure enough, his father's warm arms clasped tightly around his and then the boy was flying again, not falling. His mother's arms awaited him next and he reached out his arms in preparation to meet her. She smiled and reached out to him as well.

Then she fell.

The world stopped and suddenly the boy was on the platform, safe and secure. Time resumed as he watched his mother fall down, down, down...

Crunch.

The sight of blood splattering on the dirt floor of the circus woke Dick up, along with the sound of the audiences horrified screams in his ears.

Instantly, he was out of bed, pacing, running, jumping, just had to keep moving. In the near blackness of midnight, the cave had almost no light to see any rocks in the way. Soon enough, Dick stumbled and fell, scraping his knees. Luckily, the pain woke him up a bit. Not enough to erase the nightmare but enough to notice that the screaming was still going on.

Running a shaky hand through his ruffled hair, Dick pulled himself of the ground and closed his eyes, focusing on his hearing.

Dick tilted his head left then right and slowly back towards the left. There! The sound was coming from a tunnel that Dick was pretty sure opened up near one of the banks (and honestly, with how often they get robbed or blown up, you think there'd be less. How many banks does one dark, broken city need anyway?)

Quickly crawling through the tunnel, Dick belatedly realized that there was deep snow all over the ground now, and he still had no shoes. Just asterous.

Cold feet were soon forgotten as Dick shoved a rusty shopping cart aside and peered into the alley. The screaming had stopped about a minute ago and now the reason was horrifyingly clear.

The broken corpse of a woman was crumpled against the wall, hands tied behind her back and she was slit open in two places, once across the throat and a diagonal slash on her abdomen. She was young, no older than thirty with short brown hair, stained with blood. More blood pooled in the snow around her and was smeared all over the wall, still dripping in some spots. The lines formed... a smiley face?

Forcing back his revulsion, Dick moved closer to the woman and looked her over again. From the way she had been screaming, she had probably been sliced up while still alive, and the slash to her throat finally silenced her.

Without thinking, Dick gently brushed the hair that had fallen into the dead woman's face out of the way and then jumped at what he saw. Two more slashes were carved into her face, in a sickening resemblance to a smile, a bloody, insane smile. Same as the one on the wall, the one written in her blood.

"Good children shouldn't be out in the snow, touching dead corpses at this time of night."

"And most men don't run around in their underwear and a bedsheet beating up bad guys. What's your excuse?" Dick cooly replied, turning away from the body to face the shadow, slightly darker than those surrounding it.

Batman narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to Dick and into the beam of a nearby streetlight. Not entirely(after all he's called the Dark Knight) but enough that Dick could see the glare on his face. He returned it with a calm gaze of his own. That's when he noticed two things.

Batman's missing tool belt and the knife in his leg.

It was sticking out of Batman's right thigh, close to his hip. Buried almost all the way in, it was slick with blood and gleamed red in a chance flash of light from the lamppost.

Batman moved his cape over his leg and moved a little farther into the shadows before speaking. "Care to tell me why you are out in the middle of December, standing barefoot in seven inches of blood-soaked snow?"

"No. And you didn't answer my question. I asked first. What's with the knife?" The Dark Knight didn't flinch, but he did tense and opened his mouth. "Don't deny it, I saw the knife. And it's not like I'm going to grab it and stab you with it again. There's already enough blood here."

Batman growled quietly before sighing (Dick bet himself five bucks that Batman was rolling his eyes underneath the domino mask) and saying, "Not here. I have somewhere to be and I needed to be there twenty minutes ago."

"Well, you already missed that appointment, how 'bout we sit down and you and I can chat." Batman snorted and winced, his hand straying to his left side. Dick didn't miss it and immediately added, "I have a place where you can sit. Unless your other injuries are keeping you from moving."

"The offer is nice, but I have to go."

"You go right ahead and try. I imagine you won't be doing much running with that leg and I have your grappling gun. My offer starting to sound better?" Dick casually asked as he gently ran his fingers down the grappling gun hidden in the small of his back. He took it from Batman's hands when Dick stood up.

A sigh of defeat from the Dark Knight was all the motivation Dick needed to grab his elbow and start dragging him further into the alley. "It's not far."

Two minutes of bored walking for Dick and slow shuffling (it was actually a pretty fast pace, but slow to Dick) later, Dick had finally dragged Batman to another secret hide away of his. It was a smaller cave, more of an alcove really, that he used in case of an emergency.

Batman had to almost crawl through the entrance, it was so low, but the inside was a little roomier. Dick started moving around the hollow, grabbing bandages and rags. He also snagged a piece of stale bread. Dick didn't know if Batman would eat it, and if he didn't, Dick would.

Batman attempted to refuse the bandages, saying he still had some of his own, but Dick didn't believe him and set them down next to the bleeding bat.

"Do you need help getting out the knife?" Batman only hesitated for a second before unfurling his cape in clear acceptance.

Blood didn't show up much on the Dark Knight's uniform, especially in the dark, but it glistened in the faint light and Dick hissed, looking at all of it. Most of the wounds were probably superficial, but they still had to hurt.

As he set to work, Dick muttered, "I have a new respect for your pain tolerance."

Dick had been right, almost all of the wounds would heal within a week or so. A deep cut on Batman's forearm, bruised ribs, and the knife were the only ones that were causing any serious damage.

The first two were easy to take care out, just washing out the cut with water and wrapping up Batman's ribs tightly. The knife posed more of a problem. Currently, the knife was making sure Batman didn't bleed out onto the floor, and if removed, the blood would come rushing out.

Unfortunately, Dick didn't have any surgical needles to close the wound and there was a good chance Batman would pass out if he tried to apply pressure in the time it would take for Dick to find one. Biting his lip, Dick weighed the odds of Batman living with the knife and the pain or dying before Dick could do anything.

So to distract him, Dick asked Batman why he was so on edge. The few minutes Dick had been fixing him up, Batman was very tense, as if he were fighting the urge to spring to his feet (not that he could with his leg).

"Earlier I was taking out a few minor criminals, just bank robbers, when I overheard some of Joker's goons talking about something big going on tonight. I followed them, but one of them noticed me and shot me. Another snuck up behind with the knife," Batman motioned to his leg "and stabbed me. When I collapsed, they took my belt, but I got away before they noticed I was gone."

"So you still don't know what Joker's planning?" Dick shivered just saying his name. He had seen the clown a few times before. Not face to face, but just watching Joker was frightening enough, without watching him torture people. Many people.

"No. But I need to get back out there and find out before it happens."

"With a knife in your leg? And no belt?"

"If that's what it takes."

Dick slammed Batman back into the wall by his shoulder, quietly and forcefully saying, "If you think that being a hero means throwing yourself in any line of fire you can find, think again. Dying before accomplishing anything is useless." Dick vehemently said the last part, and then backed away from the Dark Knight, to the other side of the small cave.

"And what," Batman said as he straightened, the sheer force of his anger palpable in the air, "would you know about being a hero?"

"Enough to know that I never want to be one. I don't save people for nothing, because not everyone deserves to be saved. If saving someone else means risking my own life, it won't happen." Dick slouched, all his spark drained out of him, the brief flare of emotion gone before it could be comprehended.. "I'm not that good of a person."

Batman remained silent, watching the small boy who pulled a piece of bread out of his pocket and tore it to pieces before eating it, starving for anything he could get and not wasting one bit.

As Dick licked his fingers, wishing for more, he suddenly blinked and sat up. He couldn't believe he'd been such an idiot to not think of it before.

"You have medical supplies in your belt right?"

"Yes."

Dick smirked and stood up. "Well, if I went and got it, then you could fix yourself and actually have a chance at living."

"No. They'd kill you."

Dick scoffed. "They wouldn't notice it was missing until you burst in wearing it. C'mon, I stole your grappling gun out of your hands. I deserve some credit for that."

"I admit you have skill, but I will not send a child anywhere near Joker."

"I haven't been a child in years. Besides, the more time we sit here arguing, the less time you have to stop Joker. So just tell me where he is." The glare he received was both terrifying and aggravating.

"The idiots who took my belt mentioned something about Dock 11. Try there first."

Angry gray water smashed onto the pillars supporting the docks as Dick leapt onto a metal crate. He had reached Dock 11 a few minutes ago and then seen a short man wearing a clown mask pull up in a car and start walking.

Dick had started tailing him and once the man slipped inside the warehouse, Dick had lingered outside for a moment. Obviously he couldn't just walk in the front door, but how else was he supposed to get in?

A window high up on the building was Dick's the answer. It wasn't big, but he had fit into smaller spaces before. Plus it had a tiny ledge he could crouch on and enter without smashing open the window.

Crates led the way up to the window, or at least most of the way. Dick got to the top crate and contemplated the large jump. It was probably a five foot jump from his crate to the window.

Well... Dick did have a grappling hook.

With a grin Dick aimed at the roof ledge and fired. The hook skidded down the roof and then snared on the edge. Dick tugged on the line experimentally before taking a breath and pulling on the trigger.

Dick shot through the air, flying on nothing. It was exhilarating and beautiful and for one small second Dick felt something warm reach out tentatively in his chest.

Then Dick was crouched on the window ledge and gently prying the window open. Dick tried to focus on opening the window silently rather than the feeling of cold numbness seeping back into his chest.

With a soft pop, the window opened into the warehouse and Dick wormed his way through, catching his arm on the side and hissing in pain.

Once he was inside, Dick hopped onto a support beam and ran across it. He was about to fling himself onto a lower one when he heard laughter.

Cautiously, Dick peered over the edge of the beam down onto the scene below. Probably fifteen men stood below him, all adorned with clown masks and armed. The guns and metallic baseball bats glinted in the dusky light. A large moving truck was parked in the back of the warehouse, and inside there were many containers filled with some sort of bright green liquid.

The thing that drew Dick's eye the most was the man in the vivid purple suit, laughing his head off. Joker was giggling and smacking the man next to him on the shoulder.

"Ahahaha, I can't wait to see the look on Bats' face when he finds out! Oh, this is so much fun!" And with that, Joker lapsed back into a fit of laughter, barely finding time to breathe.

Recoiling in revulsion, Dick cast a glance over the room once more, looking for Batman's tool belt. There. Roughly cast aside, the Dark Knight's yellow belt was crumpled on a cardboard box.

None of the men seemed particularly interested in it as it was behind them and to their right. Dick seized the opportunity.

He vaulted himself off the top-most beams onto the lower ones until he was close enough to the ground to jump off without hurting himself, and without making a huge thud. He got this far, it would be stupid to get caught two feet from the belt because he, the acrobat, couldn't land right.

Yeah right.

Silently landing on the balls of his feet and rolling to displace the impact, Dick managed to stop right next to the box with the belt on it. A quick glance to reassure himself that the guards really weren't watching, an then he grabbed the belt.

As he wrapped the tool belt around his waist (twice because he was so skinny. Plus there was room left over) and clicking it into place, Dick was about to sneak out a side door that he had noticed from the ceiling, when Joker finally recovered his voice enough to speak.

"Ohhhh, it'll be so much fun watching people all over laughing with me. With my Joker venom in the air, everyone will be a little funnier. Just like me!"

"The other shipments just arrived. Metropolis, Star and Central city all have their doses. And we have Gotham covered, so it's up to you when you want to start." The smaller man Dick had followed inside had addressed Joker and while the clown contemplated this, Dick tried to remember how to breathe.

Joker venom in four majorly populated cities? The death toll within an hour would be more than one day of the Bubonic plague. Joker had apparently decided as he snapped his fingers and said, "Dawn. I want to see the stuff rain down from the sky."

Just as Joker finished, Dick slid the side door shut behind him and dashed away from the warehouse. Dick was so focused on getting back to Batman, he had to tell him, that he didn't notice a shadow following him.

The sight of a dirty alleyway was never more welcomed as Dick jogged into it (he had given up on running a few minutes ago) and saw the alcove entrance.

He slipped inside and jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Batman was staring down at him, looking paler than the last time Dick had seen him. Belatedly, he realized he should give Batman his belt and proceeded to take it off.

Dick missed the eyes that swept over him twice more checking for injuries as he unfastened the belt.

Batman took the belt from his hands and quickly opened a side pouch. He pulled out two small, blue pills and swallowed them. Next came a needle and a small packet.

Dick watched silently as Batman took out the knife and stitched himself up. Honestly, Dick was surprised batman hadn't passed out yet.

"I know what Joker is up to." Batman's head snapped up at that, eyes locking with Dick's.

"I thought I told you not to get near Joker."

Dick rolled his eyes. "I didn't. The lunatic talks really loudly."

Quickly, Dick explained what he heard and Batman ground his teeth together in frustration. Dick could almost hear the wheels in his mind turning.

"I need to get in contact with Superman, Flash and Green Arrow at least, as well as the commissioner. But I can't exactly walk there." The pointed glare he gave to Dick was probably for his grappling gun but Dick ignored it and started talking instead.

"I have no idea how to get in contact with the other guys, but I know how to get to the Comish." At Batman's narrowed eyes, Dick glared right back. "You're injured, can barely move, and I've already proven myself. I'm sure you don't want to try running all over Gotham finding the commissioner when you can just call your super-buddies."

"Fine. Straight there, tell him what you know, and then hide. No arguing." Handing him a small batarang, Batman continued, "Tell Commissioner Gordon I know what's going on and are working to stop it. The League may become involved."

With that, the two of them turned and exited the alcove, before vanishing in different directions. One vanished into the blackness with a limp and a swirl of cape, the other in a flash of a mangy red shirt and tiny bare feet that were numb with cold.

Commissioner Gordon lived on the cleaner side of town with his daughter, but he spent most nights patrolling the streets. Right now, on a slow Monday night, Dick knew the commissioner would be passed out at his desk, a cold coffee next to him.

They had met a couple times before, as Dick was a thief, and thieves get arrested. Normally, Dick escaped on his own, but he had a feeling that Gordon had looked the other way several times as Dick ran past him onto the streets.

When Dick peeked through the window of the police station, Commissioner Gordon was asleep at his desk, as he suspected. The window was locked but it was simple to pick. A quick jiggle of the batarang and it opened easily.

"Commissioner. C'mon, wake up." Shaking the older man's shoulder finally woke him up and Gordon jumped backwards, hand automatically going to his hip and drawing his gun.

He finally focused on Dick and started to demand to know what he was doing here.

Dick quickly cut him off. "Batman sent me. Joker's planning something big tonight. Joker venom bombs on four cities, including Gotham, at dawn. Batman's calling other super heroes for help, but he needed me to tell you."

"How do I know it's not a trick?"

Dick wordlessly showed him the batarang along with a raised eyebrow. At the commissioner's nod of approval, he hid the batarang again and slipped out the window when Gordon's back was turned.

Even though he despised following orders, Dick admitted hiding was probably a good idea at the moment. The commissioner's office was near the bank he had found the woman near earlier.

Although he hated to have to see her broken corpse again, he needed to get out of sight as soon as possible.

Soon wasn't good enough.

Dick heard the man before he saw him, and turned around to smash a fist into his gut before the man could react. Unfortunately, he recovered quickly and grabbed Dick's neck and held him off of the ground.

"Brat. Shouldn't go sneaking around places you're not wanted." Dick struggled as the world grayed and went black around the edges. A kick to the man's groin allowed Dick to start running, without pausing to see if he got up.

Judging by the thundering footsteps, he did and was now chasing Dick. "Gonna get you little rat. And then the police guy you told earlier. Wouldn't want him stopping Boss' plans."

At those words, Dick spun around and tripped the man before he knew that Dick had stopped moving. As the guy went down, Dick grabbed his arm and snapped it. A shriek pierced the air and the man curled up, clutching his arm and groaning.

Dick walked a few steps back towards the commissioner's office but stopped when he heard shaky laughter. "Not gonna-gonna change anything. J-Joker already kno-knows."

"I can still try."

Thus Dick ran, he ran until he thought he would pass out and kept running. The stitches ripped out along the way, the ones on his arm torn out from running into buildings as he rounded sharp corners.

The commissioner hadn't been in his office and had already taken his patrol car out. Dick had wheezed out "Where's... the... commissioner?"

Apparently, he had gone to the docks to try and stop Joker, so Dick had run the fifteen minutes it normally took to get there. The commissioner's car was nowhere to be seen, and neither was the truck.

Dick looked around, trying to spot the commissioner, and not seeing him.

Just then he felt to hands come down hard on his shoulders, holding him in place.

"Well, what do we have here? A little bird come to play?"

Dick looked up into a maniac red smile.

Red like blood.

To be continued...

* * *

AN: Well that came out differently than I thought it would. I think it works though.

Let me know what you guys think!


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Batman point of view this time! For part of it at least. (I'm going to refer to Batman as both Batman and Bruce.)

Oh my gosh this story has over 50 followers! Thank you all so much!

Also, I will try and update at least once every two weeks, hopefully more, but I have school and I also like other fandoms. Like Star Wars Rebels. Is anyone watching that?

* * *

"Clark, just go search for people wearing clown masks, laughing or discussing Joker, venom, or shipments. I know you can hear them easily so _go_."

Batman huffed in annoyance as he hung up on Superman's protests and instead turned his gaze to the water line, far from where he was now.

Bruce had already called Superman, Flash and Green Arrow, along with some other heroes for backup. The other calls had only taken a few minutes each, at most, but Superman... Superman's skull was just as hard as his skin. Wasn't he supposed to have super hearing?

Actually, the only reason Barry's call took thirty seconds was because the man couldn't be bothered to sit still and _listen_. Now if he were intentionally bothering Batman, he would just run circles around him until Batman grabbed him by the neck or glued the floor. That was a fun day.

Anyway, now Batman was perched on the roof above the alcove, calculating the chances of stopping Joker with a stab wound in his thigh. Even as he thought of it the wound throbbed painfully and Bruce rubbed a hand over it, trying to erase the pain through force.

It didn't work. Instead, it turned his mind to the boy. Dick...

God, he didn't even know who he was yet, but he had sent him to _Joker_ and then agreed to let him walk back out onto the streets to do Batman's job.

Bruce wondered if the boy had actually done as he had asked, or had gone back out onto the streets instead of hiding like he should be. If he didn't, he'd probably come back here to see if Batman had left yet.

Bruce wasn't conceited enough to think Dick liked him that much, but he was willing to talk to the boy and he respected him, and that was probably the most anyone had offered in years.

Plus, Bruce had seen him eyeing his belt. He was honestly surprised that Dick hadn't just kept it instead of giving it back to him. Pleased and slightly... proud? But definitely surprised.

Bruce swept away from the edge of the building, his cloak swirling around him as he turned towards the commissioner's office. Even if he couldn't do a thing to find Dick among the dark streets of Gotham, he could find the commissioner.

* * *

While Batman leapt from building to building to Gordon's office, he still couldn't get rid of the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

As it turns out, the commissioner wasn't in his office. According to the trembling desk worker, Gordon had left an hour ago headed for the docks.

When Batman turned to leave, the receptionist stopped him. "U-uh, earlier, there-there was a boy who c-came in. He also asked where Commissioner Gordon was, not even five minutes after he left, He was panting hard. Then he ju-just dashed out the door, when I told him where the commissioner was."

Batman hissed out a dark curse and ran out the door. This meant Dick had been at the docks for at least half an hour and there was no way that Joker wouldn't know.

* * *

On his way to the docks, half running (he doesn't have superpowers, he'll be feeling this stab wound for a while) Bruce found one of Joker's cronies, slumped against the wall cradling his arm.

The man was verging on the edge of unconsciousness but Bruce soon remedied that. Nothing like being slammed fiercely into a brick wall by Batman to wake you up in the morning.

The man gasped and started struggling and the Dark Knight just continued to hold him up. That is, until he was tired of waiting and then he leaned in close and growled "Is Joker at the docks?" A frantic nod. "Does he have the commissioner?"

"I-I dunno. We were gonna bag 'im, but that stupid brat stopped me 'fore I could get there so I dunno, I swear!" The man started babbling near the end, as the grip around his neck tightened.

Without another thought, Batman slammed the hysterical idiot into the wall, face first. Broken nose and knock out blow to the temple would be payment enough on top of the shattered arm.

Well, not enough punishment, but Bruce was in a tight schedule. Couldn't slam all the minor villans into Arkham personally could he?

* * *

Clanking glass and rumbling footsteps grew louder as Batman crept towards the warehouse.

Bruce couldn't see the commissioner's vehicle or any sign of the boy. Warily, Batman moved closer to the warehouse, pausing when he heard laughter.

If Batman ever forgot that laughter, he would be both shocked and extremely grateful.

Before he could figure out where it was coming from, the laughter stopped again and Batman cursed himself. Then something caught his attention. A long scratch ran near the ground on the warehouse wall. On the ground right next to it, spatters of blood colored the cement.

Batman leaned closer, inspecting the deep scratch. It didn't have rough edges when touched so whatever made it had to be made of something very sharp, to be able to scratch the steel walls this deeply without a lot of force.

Just then he noticed that at the end of the scratch there was another line. It was at a forty-five degree angle to the first line and Batman frowned as he tried to make sense before suddenly it clicked.

It was an arrow.

* * *

Bruce spent the next couple minutes simultaneously trying to follow the arrows and not get spotted by Joker's guards. He didn't want to knock them out right now and risk getting caught if they were found.

So instead he made a complicated dance, getting close to the walls, trying to find the next arrow (they weren't all together, they crossed buildings and were few and far between), and then retracting into the shadows when a guard walked by.

Finally, he couldn't find any more arrows. He would have kept looking, but he noticed a pile of metal shards by the end of the last one. There were three big pieces and when he held them in his hand, he knew it was a broken batarang.

Luckily (or unluckily), he heard the laughter start up again. Joker had been vocal a few times during his search but not for long enough to risk losing the arrows to locate him.

This time, the insane giggles were extremely close, coming from behind a storage crate across from where Batman stood. He slid to the edge of the crate and narrowed his eyes in anger over what he saw.

Joker stood on a small pier, with seven goons around him. In front of Joker, near the edge of the pier, were two people tied to chairs with heavy loops of chain. The first was Gordon, looking relatively unharmed if not for the bleeding temple and slumped position, indicating unconsciousness.

The other was the boy, bloody and yet still talking. It appeared as if he and the Joker were having a conversation. Just as Batman thought that, Dick said something to Joker that made his face contort with rage.

Then down came the crowbar. Again and again. No more smiles, just brutal steel and blood.

The first two guards went down without a hitch, the only sound they produced was when they hit the ground. The next three went in a similar fashion, if a little more aware of what was happening, so there was slightly more noise involved.

The next came in swinging, and was on the ground moaning before he heard the sound of his ribs breaking. The last had tried to circle around the Dark Knight, but an elbow to the gut and having his face smashed against Batman's knee put him down swiftly enough.

"Aw, Batsy, they were just going to say hello. It's rude to kill someone without knowing their name after all. Speaking of..."Joker turned back towards the boy, who had watched Batman systematically wipe the floor with each of Joker's cronies.

"Now, how about that name?" The boy grinned and rolled his eyes.

"You know, normally when someone says they don't have a name, most people are okay with that."

"Yes." Joker said casually, before enunciating each of his following words with a swing of the crowbar. "But. I. Am. Not. Most. People. Now. TELL! ME!" The last two were screamed and that was when Batman finally managed to get ahold of the crowbar.

Joker then turned to him, a snarl still etched on his face. The crowbar was wrenched from Batman's hands and was now aiming at his head. He dodged the first but was knocked onto his heels on the back hand.

"Go away, I'm busy right now. We'll play later." Joker paused, a large grin settling on his face. "Unless..." He turned around and pushed Gordon's chair closer to the edge of the dock, until it was teetering precariously on the edge. He repeated it to Dick's chair. The boy fortunately had the presence of mind not to move while he was on the edge of falling to his death.

"I have a new game in mind. Bats, you've gotta be the ref." Batman struggled to stand upright, leaning heavily on the crate next to him for balance. "So, little boy, either you tell me your name and the cop dies, or say nothing and I push you. You have thirty seconds, so choose wisely."

With that, Joker backed away and hummed to himself. He pulled an alarm clock from inside his jacket and watched the seconds tick by.

Meanwhile, Batman's vision was clearing and the world slowed to a halt. His feet were slightly steadier under him and he stood on his own just as Joker called out, "Time! So what do ya say?"

The boy looked at Joker and then returned the clown's grin with one of his own. "Sorry. I don't have a name."

Joker made an exaggeratedly disappointed face and sighed. "Oh well. I guess you're sleeping in a water bed tonight."

Batman lunged towards Joker right as Joker pushed Dick off the pier. A punch to the jaw was all it took to shut Joker up.

Batman wanted to go after the boy but first he roughly pulled Commissioner Gordon's chair away from the edge so he wouldn't accidentally fall in. Then Batman dove into the water.

It was like hitting a wall of snow, and it momentarily stunned Batman. Then he was swimming as fast as he could, trying to make up for lost ground. The water got darker as he swam deeper, but before it became totally black, he spotted the glimmer of chains.

His chest was burning as he grabbed hold of the chair. It was a flimsy wooden one, and Batman managed to break it. He quickly pulled out the pieces, and then grabbed the boy, chains and all, and swam for the surface.

Dick didn't move, was just dead weight as Batman swam. No bubbles came out of his mouth either and Bruce refused to let himself think that he was dead.

Air was simultaneously welcoming and painful at the same time, but Batman didn't pause to think about it as he swam to the ladder attached to the pier and haul himself up.

It was hard to do while also carrying an unconscious boy covered in metal, but he managed. As soon as he was on the pier, Bruce pulled the chains off the boy and then turned him on his stomach, looping an arm around his chest to keep him off the ground.

He whacked him hard on the back several times before he was rewarded with water and hacking coughs. More water came up as Dick struggled in his arms, but Bruce held onto him tightly and soon the boy was limp in his arms again.

Batman turned the boy over and lowered him onto his back gently. "Are you alright?"

A cough answered him before he got a weak reply. "Just asterous."

Batman turned away and allowed a grin to flicker over his face. He walked over to the commissioner and broke the chain before removing the chains, similarly to what he did to the boy.

Gordon woke up, rubbing his head and pausing when he felt the blood on his temple.

"Commissioner, I know you're disoriented, but we're at the docks, Joker is out for the count, and we need to find his venom supply." A nod was all he needed before Batman strode over to Joker and bound him in the chains used on his prisoners.

Then just for fun, he also tied him to a lightpost.

* * *

Gordon called in more officers and they quickly found Joker's supply and removed it. Batman received calls from the other three heroes saying they similarly dealt with the venom (except Superman. His solution was to throw it into outer space).

Batman had snuck away from the police to return to Dick, finding him a few feet away from where he left him. Judging from the smeared blood, he had tried to drag himself away, and gotten nowhere.

"Need a hand?" Batman asked, no amusement showing. The boy still picked up on it though, and glared at him. Batman's response was to pick him up and carry him back to the Batmobile.

"I have to go home now."

"I don't think so. You can't even walk, you just almost drowned in near-freezing water, were beaten by the Joker, and besides," Batman eased up on the anger in his tone. "As I recall, earlier I told you I needed to be somewhere and you ignored me. So I'm returning the favor."

The boy froze, then sighed in defeat and was quiet the rest of the way to the Batcave.

* * *

By the time they got there, Dick had passed out and Batman had to carry him once again, this time to the examination table. Bruce tried to lay him down without aggravating his wounds, before grabbing bandages and other supplies he needed.

"Late night, Master Bruce?" The crisp voice of Alfred came from behind Bruce as he walked out of the med bay to grab the container of pain medication that he left near the computer earlier. "Were you injured?"

"Yes. But it's not for me." Alfred raised an eyebrow at that and followed Bruce into the med bay. He blinked and raised his eyebrows in surprise at the sight of the child on the exam table.

"Who is this?"

"I don't think he wants me to tell you." Batman interrupted as Alfred started to protest. "Honestly." Alfred stared at Bruce for a moment before sighing.

"All right then. I shall take care of his wounds, and _you_ will sit down." Bruce didn't even bother arguing.

He may be Batman, but even he wouldn't risk Alfred's wrath.

Alfred swiftly and gently took care of the boy's wounds while Bruce took care of his own. When he was done, Alfred stood back with a thoughtful look on his face.

"Master Bruce, I believe he requires different clothing. These seem to be rather wet." Bruce looked over at Dick and agreed. All the wounds had been dealt to his head so there was no reason to remove his shirt, but keeping on cold wet clothes is guaranteed to make anyone sick.

"Do you still have any of my old clothes?" Instead of answering, Alfred walked out of the room towards the storage rooms in back.

A minute or two after Alfred left, Dick woke up. He blinked lethargically before jolting upright. He quickly looked from left to right, taking in his surroundings and stopping on Bruce.

"Batcave. We already took care of your injuries."

The boy frowned. "We?"

"I believe he is referring to me." Dick spun around and took in the sight of the old butler, white hair sleeked back, black mustache without a hair out of place, and dressed in a pristine suit. He was also carrying an armful of clothing.

"Who are you? And what's with the clothes?"

"This is Agent A, and the clothes are for you." Batman took the clothes from Alfred and offered them to the boy. "Can you stand long enough to get dressed on your own?"

The boy nodded and took the clothes. Bruce and Alfred walked out, and they spent the next few minutes discussing the night's events.

Bruce was just finishing up his story when Dick walked out, dressed in dry clothes. The gray hoodie fell just a bit too long over black pants, but for the most part, the outfit fit pretty well. The boy shuffled his bare feet on the rocky ground as Batman and "Agent A" looked him over.

"Need anything else? You're my guest tonight." The boy blinked surprised and then moved his eyes to the ground.

"Um, if you have anything to eat that would be great."

"I shall make whatever you wish, Master..." Alfred trailed off and glanced to Bruce. Bruce in turn looked at Dick and waited for him to answer.

"My name is Dick. Short for Richard. And anything is fine, as long as it's edible."

Alfred smiled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I assure you Master Richard, my food is far better than 'edible'"

* * *

Their dinner (breakfast really seeing as it was three AM now) consisted of ham sandwiches with Swiss cheese, lettuce, and tomatoes. Dick scarfed his down and had a second one.

Soon after that, Dick's eyes started drooping, and Batman offered him a cot. Dick accepted, and was out like a light.

Bruce finally allowed himself to pull his cowl back and then stood in the doorway to the med bay and just watched the boy.

It was odd, how such a small child could still be functioning after a lifetime of hardships. Bruce didn't even know a fraction of his story, but anyone could see that he lived with more darkness than most adults do in their entire lives. He wasn't even disturbed by a slashed-up corpse for God's sake.

That was the one thing that bothered Bruce. The boy showed plenty of liveliness and sarcasm, but Bruce had yet to see any true emotions from the boy.

The last thought on his mind before he closed the door and walked away, was wondering when the last time the boy really smiled was.

* * *

AN: Well, that was fun.

Anyone have any suggestions for story ideas or things like that? I need them. Please?

Review or I'll send Joker after you.


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry this took so long. I kept rewriting it because Clark is hard to write (now I know why Batman has issues with him).

Also, I know my description of Alfred is different than the YJ version but I've seen too many Batman things and get him mixed up a lot. ;^-^

Prompts for this chapter come from 1Bat-A-Rang1 and Maddie Hatter 13. Thank you both so much! Virtual blue ribbons for you two!

* * *

Waking up in a bed was one of the most surreal feelings Dick had felt in years.

The soft blankets wrapped around him, not ragged and torn. Not covered in blood stains and other mysterious substances from their previous owners, whoever that was. Instead, they were gentle on his rough skin, calluses catching on the smooth cloth.

Dick moaned, scrunching his eyes closed, while stretching his arms over his head. Slowly, he fluttered his eyes open and took in the smooth rock walls, then the medical supplies and cabinets. Dick jerked backwards, smashing his back against the wall behind him.

His eyes darted around the room, trying to take it all in at once. As the foggy layer of sleep was blown away, it all rushed back to him along with a splitting headache, and Dick immediately put a hand to his temple, clenching his teeth.

A few seconds passed before the roaring tidal wave of pain became soft waves lapping at his ankles. It still hurt like heck, but it was manageable.

Dick swung his legs over the side of his bed (now that he looked it was really more of a cot, but compared to rough, jagged pieces of concrete, it was like lying on cotton candy) and stood. Another wave of pain, this time accompanied by strong vertigo crashed over him, and he laid one hand on the edge of the bed for balance.

"This is just asterous. Heavy on the dis." Dick mumbled to himself as he walked out of the med bay. His steps became more sure and as he kept walking, it seemed he didn't notice the pain as long as he focused on something else. At the moment, it was finding Batman.

What he found instead was a giant computer. Dick looked up at it in awe, reaching a tentative hand out to touch the keys. He almost did, but stopped just before touching them.

It was mostly because he didn't really know what he was doing anyway, he hadn't ever touched a computer aside from a couple times in the local library. The other reason was the menacing presence at his back.

"Shiny." Dick said with child-like simplicity.

"Yes it is. Don't touch it." Dick rolled his eyes and stepped away from it, putting his outstretched hand on his hip.

"Just because I steal things doesn't mean that I can steal your entire computer by touching it. With a couple days..." Dick trailed off, moving evaluating eyes over the large keyboard. "Yeah, I could probably clean this out."

Batman glowered at him and then raised his eyebrows. "If you promise not to steal my computer, I'll give you pain meds and lunch."

"Deal. Wait, lunch?"

"You could consider it dinner. It's two-thirty."

Dick started and looked around for a clock before remembering. Right, he was in the cave. With barely any smooth walls, much less bats with decorating abilities.

Although that Agent A guy... he had some skills in the kitchen.

As soon as Dick thought that he heard the clacking of heels on the stone floor and turned to see Agent A (what a dumb name. It better be a code name. And why do they need code names? Who would he tell?) pushing a cart with food on it.

Dick jumped to his feet and started towards Agent A, but was stopped when the butler (Dick assumed, seeing as he called everyone Master) stepped in front of the cart.

"We shall attend to your injuries first, Master Richard. Then you may eat." Dick huffed but... well, he always had been a sucker for food.

* * *

Agent A unwrapped the bandages from his head and dabbed at his wounds with disinfectant. Dick hissed, but stayed where he was.

_The sooner it's over, the sooner you have food_ was what Dick was repeating over and over in his head until Agent A was done. The second the butler finished, Dick jumped up and looked at him, pleading for food with his eyes.

A small smile graced the Englishman's face, and he gave a slight shake of the head before turning back to the cart. He took the top off a bowl of soup, chicken with vegetables, and handed it to Dick, warning him about how hot it was.

Dick nodded and quickly blew on the spoonful of soup. He swallowed it and blinked back tears at the heat before continuing to eat. Batman left the med bay in a sweep of his black cape and returned to his computer.

Dick constantly had to remind himself to slow down when he was eating, because of the heat and because he had barely had anything to eat this week, aside from the two sandwiches last night (which he ate a little too much of. He woke up during the night and almost threw up) and he didn't want to barf.

Roughly ten minutes later he finished and swallowed to two pills Agent A handed him. He then jumped up and ran to investigate what Batman was doing.

The Dark Knight was sitting straight-backed at his computer, decrypting files. Or encoding them. Dick wasn't totally sure. So he took the next logical step. Sarcasm.

"And you say I'm a thief. I think stealing government secrets is worse than taking a bread crust here and there."

"It's necessary. The Justice League's next mission is in Biyalia and I needed information."

Dick blinked, not expecting to actually hit the mark with his joking. He turned his eyes towards the computer, trying to make out the symbols and flickering numbers.

"How do you read this stuff?"

Batman turned towards him and then simply replied, "Practice."

Dick rolled his eyes and hopped up onto a counter beside the Dark Knight. "Well, I guess I can't help you there then."

"You helped enough last night. You did follow orders, although it had unfortunate consequences."

Dick blinked again, feeling a warm sensation start in his chest. He quelled it without a second thought and instead offhandedly said, "Anytime. It was pretty fun."

He couldn't have predicted Batman's reaction if he tried. "No." He hissed, deep and dangerous. "I did it last time because I had no alternative, but I will not send a child to face criminals."

Dick felt himself getting annoyed. "Why not? I can handle myself."

"Like with the Joker?"

"Fluke."

Batman stood and advanced on Dick. "And what about next time? When you get caught by Penguin, or Harley, or Poison Ivy? I can't always be there to save you."

"I don't need anyone to save me." Dick growled.

Batman continued on unhindered. "Your next _fluke_ could get you killed."

Dick snapped.

"It's not like I have anything left to live for! I'm not even living, barely surviving. Maybe I wanted someone to end it!" Dick ranted at Batman, feeling the burning in his head and chest.

How ironic. The first emotion he really feels in years and it's all-consuming anger, boiling away his control.

Batman looks stunned and opens his mouth to reply when the computer screen blinks red and a screeching alarm sounds. Batman quickly turned and opened the comlink.

"Superman. What's going on?"

"It's worse than we thought. They had this weird jelly that burns when you touch it. Martian Manhunter got it on his arm and needs medical attention. Where are you?"

"The Batcave. Bring him here." Batman swept away from the computer and walked into another room, similar to the med bay but with more tools and what looks like an operating table.

Batman pulled out a small communicator and spoke into it. "Manhunter is critically injured and Superman is bringing them here. Bring them to the operating room when they arrive."

"What's going on?" Dick asked quietly, the previous conversation not forgotten altogether. Batman glanced at him and then went back to prepping the table.

"Superman and Martian Manhunter were on a recon operation in Biyalia and encountered trouble, like you heard. Martians are very fast healers but extremely susceptible to fire, so I need to keep his body from crashing and giving it time to recover."

As soon as the words left his lips, voices echoed along the walls and Superman flew beside Agent A, carrying a man in his arms, presumably Martian Manhunter.

He had green skin and was wearing a navy costume with red slashed across it and a cape flowing behind him. Manhunter was panting heavily and clutching his arm to his chest.

Batman hurried Superman inside and Alfred followed, leaving Dick alone in the cave.

* * *

An hour of waiting, trying to pass time without aggravating his head, and Batman finally stepped out of the operating room. Superman followed, talking somberly with Batman before noticing Dick, sitting next to the computer.

"What is he doing here?" Batman opened his mouth to answer but Dick beat him to it.

"'He' can hear you. You could try asking him. I know for a fact that I am capable of holding an intelligent conversation. Most of my partners aren't, but beggars can't be choosers."

Superman narrowed his eyes and took a step towards him. "And what, exactly, are you insinuating?"

Dick was tired and angry and hurting. Thus what little filter he had was gone. "Wow, I can't believe that you know that big of a word. Did a dictionary page accidentally fly into your face while you were smashing up bad guys?"

Superman clenched his fists. "Kid, today is _not_ a good day to mess with me."

Dick chuckled darkly, hopping onto his feet. "Believe me, it's been less than asterous for me too."

Batman watched the entire exchange, only intervening when it looked as if they might come to blows. "I brought him here. Joker got him last night, and he needed medical attention."

Superman looked surprised and turned back towards Dick to re-examine him. When he saw the bruises on the boy's jaw and the stark white bandages around his temples, his gaze softened.

He looked as if he were opening his mouth to apologize when Dick diverted attention by addressing Batman instead.

"I didn't need medical attention. I was fine."

"Bleeding heavily and almost drowning after being attacked by a crowbar is 'fine'?" Batman raised an eyebrow at this.

"I'm used to pain. And hard work. Which is why I could be your spy."

Batman immediately tensed. "I already said, _no_."

"What is he talking about?" A confused Superman asked Batman. Both Dick and Batman ignored him.

"I can get in and out easily and sneak up on people without being noticed. I would be fine."

"I. Said. _No_." Bruce snapped, enunciating each word. Superman looked startled when he finally figured out what they were talking about.

"Br-Batman, were you letting this kid work for you?"

"No!"

"Yes." Batman glared at Dick, grabbing his shoulder tightly. "I will not put you in danger. Understand?"

Dick glared right back, not even flinching under the strong grip. "I am in danger every. Single. Day. I might as well be useful."

Batman released Dick's shoulder and stood up. "Get out."

"What?" The word dropped into the tense silence.

"I said go. If you won't listen to me, then there is no purpose for you being here."

Dick drew himself up, eyes narrowed in contempt. "Fine. Where's the exit?"

The hand on his shoulder was gentle this time and Dick looked up into the remorseful eyes of Agent A. "This way, young master."

When they rounded a corner, Dick heard Superman say, "What is up with you and that kid?"

Batman's reply didn't hurt. "He doesn't need me to be his killer. Someone else will take care of that."

It didn't hurt. If Dick was still young, happy in the circus, he might have felt tears blurring his vision, and a twisted knot in his chest. Now all he felt was numb.

But if he kept listening, he might have felt that warm feeling from before that he had brutally squashed.

"I'm trying to lessen the amount of danger he's in. It's the least I can do." Dick missed the weary expression on Batman's face and the empathetic one on Superman's.

But Dick didn't hear and instead was escorted out of an exit that opened under a cliff, the outline of Gotham looming on the horizon.

So he started walking without looking back.

* * *

Batman scrubbed a hand over his face when he heard a whispery voice from his left.

"What troubles you so, Batman?"

"John!" Superman exclaimed happily, before immediately turning to concern. "Should you be up?"

"I have recovered sufficiently. It is not my injuries that are bothering me."

"Then what is it?" Superman frowned and tilted his head slightly.

Manhunter paused for a moment, looking uncertain before hesitantly answering. "While I was recovering, I noticed a rather unusual presence."

"Unusual?" Batman questioned, immediately on alert.

"Not dangerous, but... unusual. It was as if there was nothing there. No love, no happiness, no sadness. Just an empty void. I sensed mental scars. Very deep ones at that."

Batman and Superman glanced at each other, before simultaneously looking in the direction that Dick had walked out in.

* * *

A fifteen minute walk was all it took for Dick to be surrounded by cool shadows and dark whispers. By this time, he had started getting hungry, so he ducked into an alley and pulled out one of his quick stashes of cash.

He bought himself a hot dog from the vendor, then turned to run back into the alley.

Dick was almost there when something slammed into him from the side. Dick went sprawling, his hotdog tumbling onto the dirty street.

"Oh my gosh, are you okay? I didn't mean to do that, I just wasn't looking where I was going!"

Dick looked up to see the person who crashed into him, fully prepared to demand a hotdog as payment.

* * *

AN: That was hard to write. Sorry it was so short.

**Voting is now closed because almost everyone already guessed who the person in the next story is! Sorry. Please do not continue to guess the attacker.**

Oh and in response to M(a guest), I control the Joker because he's afraid of me. I'm not a nice person, you'll see as the story progresses *evil grin*

Any story prompts, suggestions, or random things you feel like telling me? Then comment! Or PM me, whatever works.


	6. Chapter 6

Hi again!

Okay, so this chapter is dedicated to both IndiaMoore for the chapter inspiration, and A Small Voice, for guessing that it was Wally. Thank you for all of you who voted!

Oh and Booyakasha's b-day is Tuesday (I think) so happy birthday!

This story is getting a little darker, and I don't mean to offend or make anyone feel bad. If I do please tell me, and I'll try to fix it.

Also, at the end is an important note so please read it, but for now, enjoy the story.

* * *

Dick glowered at the boy standing in front of him, awkwardly shuffling his feet. Freckles danced across his cheeks and his hair was vividly orange.

"Watch where you're going!" Dick snapped at him. The boy flinched and looked of Dick with regretful green eyes, like new leaves.

"I-I'm sorry. I honestly didn't see you until you stepped off the sidewalk." Dick humphed and looked at his hot dog sadly. It had fallen in a muddy puddle of snow, and even Dick wasn't that brave.

The youth looked followed Dick's gaze and seemed to shrink even further into himself. "Oh no. Did I do that?" Dick was about to sharply retort when the words died on his lips.

The kid looked like a kicked puppy, already assuming he'd be kicked again. Dick knew that look. It was the expression of many other kids on the streets. The runaways, the addicts coming down from their high, prostitutes. Anyone who'd ever had a fist raised to them.

The same expression.

Dick softened marginally, closing his eyes and putting his hands near his hips, palms up. "Look, it's not your fault. I'm just hungry, so I snapped."

He looked at Dick, surprise filtering through. Dick locked eyes with him. The boy seemed to realize he was being sincere and uncurled a bit. "You're really not mad?"

Dick snorted and cracked an easy grin. "Nah, it was just a snack anyway. I can wait 'til later to eat."

Once he smiled, the boy beamed back, smile brightening up his face and making him seem like a whole different person. He rubbed a hand on the back of his head and chuckled sheepishly. "Well, sorry for ruining your snack. I have some emergency snacks if you want to have some."

Dick raised an eyebrow. "Emergency snacks?"

Another dazzling grin and then his hands were flying as fast as his mouth. "Oh yeah, I get hungry a lot, so I always keep a backup in case I need food right now."

Dick laughed. He just kept laughing and the boy laughed with him for a while. Neither were really sure why they were laughing, but it felt right.

Biting his lip to choke back giggles, the boy stood fully and extended his hand. "Wally West, at your service."

"My name is Dick. Short for-"

"Richard, right?" Dick blinked. He hadn't expected that Wally would know something like that. "My great-uncle's name was Dick too."

"Oh." Dick left it at that, instead just looking Wally over. He was wearing black jeans with ratty sneakers and a worn blue sweat shirt. A hind of red peeked out from where the zipper wasn't all the way up. His orange hair was short and spiky, sticking off his head anywhere it was long enough.

Dick felt himself being watched in return, and for once, not minding it.

After a few more seconds of quiet examination, Dick's stomach growled. He put a hand over it, but Wally had already heard. He grinned and leaned in to whisper conspiratorially to Dick.

"How 'bout that food?"

* * *

An apple and a granola bar were placed on the sidewalk in front of him, and Dick had to restrain himself from snatching them off the ground.

When your food comes at random intervals, never knowing if you'll get to eat this week, you really learn to appreciate it.

Dick looked away from the food, and found Wally staring at him from about two inches away. Dick flinched on reflex, a hand coming up to protect his throat and the other moving over his food.

He forced himself to relax and then said, " Um, bit too close there."

Wally muttered sorry and backed off. "Any particular reason you have a sudden fascination with my face?"

"I was just..." Wally trailed off, motioning circles with his hands, looking for a word he didn't have.

"Being creepy?" Dick joked as he leaned back, crossing his arms. Wally jumped up and instantly defended himself.

"No, I was trying to figure out what you are!"

"_What_ I am?"

"Yeah, I mean," Wally paused and ran a hand roughly through his hair. "You're not like other people I've met. You have...something that most people don't. But..."

At this point, Wally stopped ranting and looked uncertain. So Dick prompted him with, "But...?"

Wally bit his lip and looked away before quietly answering. Dick was glad they had moved to a quieter street, otherwise he'd have never heard what he said.

"You're also..._missing_ something. Something you need. But you learned to live without."

Dick narrowed his eyes, knowing what Wally was talking about. He felt the void every day, and sometimes honestly wondered how it hadn't swallowed him whole. Wally was spot on except for one point.

He hadn't learned to live without a heart. Learned to survive? Yes. Really _live_?

Dick wasn't sure he even remembered the feeling.

The silence was becoming tense, Wally apprehensive that Dick was mad, and Dick not wanting Wally to see the true emptiness. That's odd. Normally, he couldn't care less who sees his void. But he didn't want Wally to not like him.

Even if he never saw him again.

So instead Dick reached over and picked up the apple, tossing it in the air once before catching it. Then he took a bite out of it and stood, stashing the granola bar of his new hoodie.

"C'mon, I wanna show you something." Dick held out a hand to Wally, who was still on the ground, surrounded by the crumbs of his own meal.

Wally warily accepted his hand, and yelped in surprise when Dick practically pulled him off his feet when Dick started running.

* * *

Dick finally stopped at the edge of a dense forest. He was panting and starting to sweat, but Wally looked unhindered by the fast pace.

"What is this place?" Wally asked as he curiously looked around the trees. "I've been to Gotham a lot, but I've never seen this place."

"Most of the people living in Gotham are city people. They wouldn't know the difference between raspberries and yew berries." Wally grimaced and Dick laughed. "Exactly. So they don't really point this place out when giving directions."

"So why do you know about it?"

"I like to explore."

"You explore a potentially deadly forest on the outskirts of the most dangerous cities on earth."

"What can I say," Dick shrugged before turning and walking into the dense trees. "I really like to get away."

Wally jogged to catch up to him, another question already at his lips. "So how old are you? I'm thirteen."

"Eleven."

"How long have you lived in Gotham?"

"Five or so years."

"That's rough. I live in Central city."

"Doesn't the Flash live there?"

Wally stumbled a bit before answering. "Yeah he's awesome! I wanna be like him when I'm older. Do you have a favorite hero?"

Dick didn't answer for a second, instead just forging on ahead. "No."

Wally caught the hesitation and decided against asking. "Do you have any siblings? I'm an only child. I wish I had a little brother, so we could play!"

"I don't have any siblings." Dick was starting to get uncomfortable with the way the conversation was going but as long as Wally didn't ask-

"What about parents?"

Dick sighed. Of course. He once again hesitated before answering, quieter this time. "They're dead."

Wally stopped suddenly and it took Dick a few steps to notice that he wasn't behind him anymore. Dick turned, expecting the usual look of pity and condolences.

Instead, he was met with kind, open eyes and an apologetic expression. There was no pity there, only empathy.

"I also lost my mom." Wally glanced at the ground. "And I guess I lost my dad then too." Dick could see it was a sensitive topic, and already had a pretty good idea of what was going on.

Dick got the feeling that even if it wasn't winter, Wally would still be wearing his worn hoodie and jeans.

Dick reached out a hand, stopped, and then ignored his usual paranoid side and placed his hand gently on Wally's. A smile and slightly blushing cheeks were his response.

Dick turned around again and they walked in silence for the next few minutes. It was actually kind of disconcerting. Even after only knowing Wally for a little while, silence was a word that should not be used in the same sentence as Wally.

He brushed aside another branch to reveal their destination. "We're here." Dick called over his shoulder to Wally. Wally's eyes lit up in anticipation and he dashed forward to meet Dick.

It wasn't exactly a clearing, but the trees were farther apart here, with sturdy low-hanging branches. Although some of the branches had needles, most were bare. There was enough coverage from the pine trees that there was little snow on the ground, although Dick's feet were already freezing.

"This is my favorite place to go to get away from all the noise." Wally nodded absentmindedly, looking around. Dick sat down and watched Wally work his way around, laughing when a chunk of snow fell on his head.

"I can see why. But the branches kind of get in the way, don't they?"

Dick smiled and replied, "No, they're perfect."

Wally turned towards him, frowning in confusion. "Perfect for what?"

"All sorts of things. Climbing, hiding under, acrobatics..." Wally looked more confused at the mention of acrobatics.

"How do you know acrobatics?"

"Well," Dick motioned for Wally to come closer. "It's because..." Pause for dramatic effect. "I'm an acrobat." Dick whispered.

Wally hit him lightly on the shoulder, glowering at Dick when he started laughing. "No duh. I meant who did you learn it from?"

Dick shrugged, walking towards a nearby branch. "Mostly my parents, but I grew up in a traveling circus, so I met acrobats from around the world and got tips from them." As he finished talking, he flipped up onto the branch and turned to see Wally's reaction.

Wally was staring at him with his mouth open, eyes glittering in childish admiration. "Can you show me some moves?" Dick was going to say maybe later, but the look of raw hope on Wally's face made him smile and nod instead.

Dick faced the other branches, standing on the balls of his feet. Suddenly he sprung off the branch and grabbed onto another. He allowed his force to carry him up and twist, before coming back down and swinging with his legs this time.

A few more flips and close calls on catches, and Wally was cheering from his position on the ground. Dick worked his way up the branches until he stood roughly twenty-five feet in the air, ice cold wind rushing through his hair.

Dick knew he had to come down soon, because his feet were going numb and his hands were starting to hurt. Dick made it to about eight feet off the ground when suddenly a crack split the air and he felt himself tilting sideways.

A short shriek left his lips and that was all he had time to do before he hit hard.

* * *

Or rather, he hit something soft really hard.

Dick slowly opened his eyes, wondering why he wasn't dead. Or maybe he was.

The first thing he saw was bright orange, like flames, and immediately thought, _So I didn't make it to Heaven._

Once he fully opened his eyes, Dick saw bright green to accompany the orange and just got more confused. It was at that point that he realized he was laying on top of Wally.

Wally had apparently managed to catch him, judging from the arms clenched tightly around him. He was frantically looking him over, and once he caught sight of sky blue peeking up at him, he immediately asked, "Are you okay?"

Dick opened his mouth to speak but Wally just rambled on. "I mean, I know you're not okay, you just fell out of a tree and I wonder if you can get a concussion from whiplash? Hey, did the branch scratch you as you fell? Are you bleeding anywhere? Or broken? Or-"

"Wally. I am fine. There are a couple little scratches, but the only reason I'm going to get hurt now is if you keep holding on, because you're going to suffocate me."

Wally blurted out, "I'm sorry!" and scrambled to let go of Dick without dumping him on the ground.

They eventually untangled, Wally now blushing so hard that it clashed with his hair. Even his ears were tinged red, and his focused his gaze on his shuffling feet.

Dick patted himself down, and decided that nothing was horribly wrong. He then lightly swatted Wally on the shoulder. "That's for suffocating me." Before Wally could crumple into a self-loathing ball, Dick gave him a brief one-armed hug.

"And that's for catching me." He quickly started moving away, not totally sure why he had hugged some stranger he'd met today. But Wally wasn't really a stranger anymore.

* * *

Dick made sure to stay ahead of Wally as they walked back. He didn't want him to see the panicked expression on his face or the full-body tremors.

He almost fell.

He almost _fell_.

God.

Dick tried to repress another shudder, but this time Wally caught onto it. The inevitable "Are you okay, Dick?" came his way and Dick opened his mouth to lie.

"No." Dick was surprised. He hadn't meant to say that.

Wally, of course, rushed up to him and started looking him over for injuries. When he saw his face though, he stopped. "Oh." He softly said, putting a hand on Dick's shoulder.

Wally made Dick sit down on a rock mostly clear of snow, and Dick automatically hid his face. Wally just sat next to him, a warm presence amidst the freezing cold. Dick shivered and felt Wally shift slightly closer.

Dick leaned into him, grateful for the warmth. It kept his mind off of other things, like blood and bone shards.

It's awful. Dick never loses his composure during the day, always keeping his mask up, but certain things set him off. Falling was the biggest one.

Just thinking the word made Dick's breath speed up, and he cautiously moved his hand until his pinky was touching Wally's and then interlocked them. Wally didn't move away, so Dick left his hand there.

Dick had no way of knowing how much time had passed, but it seemed like an eternity before he spoke.

"That's how, you know."

"How what?" Wally gently asked.

"How they died." Wally stiffened, then leaned in closer to Dick. "They fell while I watched." Dick swallowed hard. "They screamed."

Wally stayed with him until the shaking stopped.

* * *

Wally didn't mind sitting with Dick and when Dick pulled away, he didn't comment, just offered a smile and a hand up. Dick went to put his feet on the ground and stumbled.

His feet were totally numb, to the point where they couldn't support his weight. Wally held him up while Dick quickly explained. After, Wally forced Dick to sit again before taking off his shoes and socks.

"What are you doing?" Wally glanced up at him before continuing pulling off his right sock.

"I'm letting you borrow my socks until we get back and we can warm up your feet." Dick was surprised but already noticed a flaw in the plan.

"The socks will just get wet and cold, and besides, I can't walk very well."

Wally looked at him like he was crazy. "That's why I'm carrying you."

* * *

Despite Dick's protests, Wally gave him a piggy-back ride back to Gotham, where Dick directed him to another hiding place of his. This one had some wood stacked up and stones as a substitute for a fireplace.

The fire was warm, and Dick could feel his feet again. Of course, that also meant that he could feel pain, and spent the next few minutes rolling on the ground moaning about needles while Wally laughed.

They ended up talking about science somehow, and on whether computers were better than chemistry. Dick didn't really know how to use them, but they always seemed more useful to him.

They eased into such a comfortable routine that when Wally suddenly paused and asked in a strangely tight voice, "What time is it?" Dick was startled.

"There's a clock in the main plaza. It's just a minute from here."

Wally hurried next to Dick, who was adjusting to the feeling of walking again. When they reached the plaza, Dick pointed out the large digital clock.

Wally paled rapidly, freckles standing out against milk-white skin. Dick was about to ask what was wrong when Wally started talking very fast to himself. All Dick could make out was "late" and "kill me".

Wally turned to Dick and said, "I'm sorry, but I have to go. I needed to be home an hour ago."

Dick looked at Wally for a long moment before nodding. But before he could dash off, Dick grabbed his shoulder and made him stay.

He quickly snatched a newspaper out of the garbage and a pen from someone's jacket. He scribbled out an address and a number.

"Here. This is the house right next to where I live, and an old phone only I know about, Just...if you ever need to find me. Or need help."

Wally took the piece of paper and looked Dick in the eyes before smiling and thanking him. As he passed Dick, Wally muttered "I'll be okay."

Dick watched Wally run, praying he would be.

* * *

AN: Okay, this was an emotionally unstable chapter but it's *checks clock* 2 am and I crave comfort that I've been denying Dick. Pus I like making him be like a younger brother to Wally.

Also, for those of you who didn't guess, in this fic, Wally is beaten by his father (NOT FLASH! Gosh no!) and has been since his mothers death six years ago. And he has his powers right now, but Barry(flash) doesn't know yet.

Please don't be mad at me for the following statement. I do give characters happy endings, but they take a long time to develop.

You don't heal from years of living on the streets overnight because a socially awkward Bat says hi.

I probably won't include the other members of Young Justice, mostly because I can't write them, but many members of the Justice League and Roy will enter here somewhere (also not a fun life, what kind of horrible person am I?).

I will give Dick and Wally and Roy happy endings, but I need to get Dick to break the emotional wall he has around himself first.

You guys can help by giving me ideas for scenes to write, even if it's just something like, "Alfred comforts Dick over tea" (which is in the works). And if I don't reply, it's nothing personal, but so many wonderful people review that I lose track. X(

I do read them all and squeal with joy, every time.

Please comment, and thank you so much for reading.


	7. Chapter 7

So I was re-reading my chapters and I realized there are some semi-important inconsistencies (like Dick's bandages last chapter), and I'm sorry for that if it bothers you.

It usually takes me a week to find time to write, so by then I've forgotten details that I should remember.

Also, I forgot to mention, I don't have a beta or really revise my chapters (I try to put them up as fast as possible for you guys) so any mistakes are mine.

Thanks to **Booyahkasha**for the chapter idea.

* * *

Dick cursed, stumbling over a stray piece of wood. Who leaves wood on their roof?

Dick regained his balance and continued chasing after the figure in front of him, determined to catch the slim shadow, leaping effortlessly over and around any obstacle in his path. Dick was grudgingly respectful. It takes years to learn to move like that.

But Dick was trained as an acrobat long before he was reforged by the streets as a thief.

He leaped off the roof and grabbed a flagpole sticking out of the side of the building. He flung himself up and slowly flipped once before landing a few steps behind the shadow.

Dick had expected them to at least be startled, hopefully stopping if not slowing down a bit.

He hadn't expected the arrow that was currently pointed at his throat.

* * *

=It had been six days since Wally had left and Dick had neither heard nor seen him. Central city wasn't exactly a short walk from Gotham, and Wally _did_ just meet him. It's not like Dick expected him to come back right away.

That didn't mean he wasn't worried.

It was peculiar, getting used to caring about someone other than himself. Wally was the first person who he'd been willing to touch, Batman the first to talk to him like something other than a street rat, and Agent A the first to actually handle him with gentleness, something he hadn't felt in over five years.

Dick glanced out the window of Tanner's diner, willing the bright-haired boy to appear in the street, waving idiotically to get his attention.

He didn't show up.

Dick sighed and went back to sweeping the floor. It was kind of odd, being in Tanner's shop during the day. He was out so Amy was running the store and had offered Dick an actual meal for being there for an hour.

Dick had agreed, because in the past few weeks, Tanner had started working later, so Dick hadn't been able to work. But now he was sweeping and occasionally snatching food from customers.

It was three o'clock when Dick's hour was up, and Amy sat him down in back with a roast beef sandwich and a glass of soda. He ate the sandwich and then had a little fun with the soda. He hadn't had it in a few years, so he forgot that the bubbles kind of burned your mouth and throat if you drank fast enough.

Dick had just finished washing and drying the dishes he'd used when he heard the front door slam open. "AMY!" Dick jumped at the bellowing voice and cursed.

Tanner.

"Where are you, you little-" The stout man stopped short at the sight of the boy standing next to his sink. His deep brown-almost black-eyes bored into Dick, and Dick wouldn't have been surprised to find twin holes burned into his chest.

Dick didn't even bother trying to talk to him. He knew it was useless.

It turns out running was as well.

Right as he burst out the back door to freedom, a thick hand caught the back of his hoodie and yanked him backwards. Dick scrambled to stay on his feet, trying not to be choked by his shirt.

Tanner dragged him outside into the dimly lit alley. In one brief moment, Dick suddenly realized that it got dark a lot faster in December. And then Tanner backhanded him.

The blow brought him back to the present, and as Dick blinked furiously to clear the tears of pain, he heard a low voice hiss next to his ear, greasy black hair sliding over his ear.

"I thought I told you to stay out of my shop, filthy _orphan_." Tanner spat out the last word, as if the mere thought was poisonous.

"Aw, but didn't you miss me?" Dick regretted his words the second he realized he'd said them out loud. The layer of anger on Tanner's face shattered, only to reveal a look of thunderous rage.

Dick knew the next blow was coming, but wasn't prepared for the ferocity of it. A punch to his stomach slammed him back into the wall, and a second quickly followed.

If it hadn't been for the piercing shriek just then, Dick was sure he would have snapped some ribs with the next punch.

Tanner jerked and looked up, spotting Amy and instantly dropping Dick, leaving him to collapse on the bricks, curling up with his hand wrapped around his mid section. Tanner forgot about Dick and turned his anger on Amy instead.

"Where where you? I was yellin' your name and you didn't come!" Like she was a dog.

"I-I was getting you a beer from the big fridge. I d-didn't hear you yelling over the ice machine."

Tanner relaxed at the promise of beer and told Amy to go back inside. She did, without once turning to glance at Dick. He didn't blame her. He wouldn't want to risk Tanner's wrath anymore than he already had.

Before walking through the open door, Tanner turned and spat on Dick's face. He gazed almost gleefully at his work, before smirking and walking inside, casually calling over his shoulder,

"No shoes, no parents, no service."

* * *

Dick staggered through alleys, one hand pressed tight against the rough brick, the other still wrapped tightly around his torso.

The taste of bile made the corners of his mouth curl down, twisting his already grim face into a haggard mask of pain.

Dick had only thrown up once, not willing to let himself lose anymore food that he couldn't afford not to have. Still the bile taste lingered and combined with the pain and nausea, Dick couldn't fully assure himself that he wouldn't vomit again.

Although he was barely walking amidst a fog of pain, Dick grinned to himself. He may have gotten smashed into a wall, but he'd heal quickly enough and he'd gotten something that would make Tanner hate him for eternity (if he didn't already).

Tanner's overflowing wallet and shining watch were stashed in the secret fold in his shirt, tucked well out of view.

The watch was more of a souvenir than anything useful, a trophy to keep. The money he could definitely use, but right now he was more concerned with getting home without passing out.

Sleeping defenselessly on Gotham's streets was just asking to be taken or killed. Personal experience could attest to that.

Images of ropes and musty cells clogged his mind for a moment before Dick yanked himself back into the present. He continued home, barely noticing how his hand started to drift to his ankle.

* * *

Dick opened his eyes, blinking to clear the hazy image of the room. The familiar cracked walls and dry stone greeted him, and Dick allowed himself to relax.

He shoved a blanket off himself and threw an arm over his face. When the memories of yesterday (probably. Dick hoped he hadn't slept more than a day) returned, the pain followed, and Dick suddenly made the connection between bruised ribs and the difficulty he was having while trying to breathe.

Dick eased himself upright, hesitantly placing a hand on his chest. There was a sharp pain from even the slightest touch, and Dick choked back a moan.

He decided that exploring his chest could wait a minute, so instead he checked other wounds.

His stitches had vanished, and the cuts were mostly healed. The bullet wound on his arm was little more than a scrape and the formerly bloody hole in his leg was sealed up, already starting to develop a tiny knot of scar tissue.

The headache Dick had received from Joker vanished sometime last week, along with the bruises. Although he probably had more now, from Tanner's backhand earlier.

Dick gently probed his cheekbone, trying to feel out any damage. He was pleasantly surprised to find little to no pain. Maybe it was because his chest was still feeling as if someone was pounding on it with burning mallets.

Suddenly remembering it's existence, Dick pulled Tanner's watch out of his hidden pocket. It was kept clean enough that he could see his reflection, even if it was distorted.

He held it up and examined his face, seeing only the faint marks of a bruise. Most of it would be hidden by his hair anyway. Still stalling, Dick took a closer look at the watch. There was a worn expression on the back. It looked as if it said, _semper tua ero_, but Dick had no idea what it meant.

The watch was polished and actually in okay condition. It was an older watch that had to be wound, and the black Roman numerals stood out in stark contrast against the silver metal.

Dick looked over it once more, before sighing and setting it down. He faced the inevitable task of taking off his shirt in one fell swoop, almost blacking out once it was in his lap.

Once he regained control of his hands, he looked down at his chest and cursed, poking one finger into the splatters of black on his ribs. They were spread across the bottom of his chest, near his stomach, although they didn't spread much further.

A second or two passed while Dick considered and decided that it wasn't that bad. From some painful poking around, he decided that nothing was broken, just bruised. The only reason it still hurt so bad was because it was recent.

With that in mind, Dick buried himself back under the mountain of rags that passed for his bed, fully intending to sleep off the pain.

* * *

For the most part, his plan succeeded, seeing as Dick slept until about sundown. They pain was much more subdued than earlier, and Dick could easily walk around and act as if nothing was wrong.

Not to say it didn't hurt, but he'd lived with worse. You start to just become numb after a while.

After eating a hunk of bread, Dick went over to the most well-lit corner and once again played with the watch.

As he spun it in his hands, he realized that he could probably never go back to Tanner's place for work. Tanner would kill him on the spot, and Amy was too afraid to try and help him now. There goes his only semi-reliable food source.

Dick sighed and pulled himself upright, pocketing the watch and grabbing some cash. It was marginally warmer today, and if he was fast, his feet wouldn't be frozen by the time he got back.

Dick hurried into a tunnel that would lead him to the grocer's, fully intent on stocking up for a few weeks. He made it in and out of the shop in a matter of minutes, carrying a bag of food.

It was when Dick made it back to the tunnel when he remembered that he would have to go a different route, because the bag wouldn't fit.

Mumbling curses all the way, Dick backtracked, and walked another couple of blocks before reaching the abandoned subway. He pulled away the pieces of wood covering the entrance to his home and clambered inside.

Hiding the food only took a couple minutes, and he was left with a small apple for dinner. It was gone too soon, and Dick slumped against a wall, tired beyond belief. How on earth could he still be tired even after sleeping for over twelve hours?

Dick tried to keep himself awake, but he succumbed to sleep within a half an hour of his return.

It didn't last long.

* * *

Dick slammed into the ground when he jumped awake, losing his precarious balance. He put a hand to his chest and wondered what had woken him up. The answer came in the form of an explosion that rocked the floor and made the stone around him dangerously shiver.

Dick was instantly on his feet and out the nearest exit, in this case the subway route again. He had learned early on to never stay in the cave during any earthquakes, after nearly being crushed by a section of wall.

Dick was panting hard by the time he made it outside, bending over to catch his breath. He normally wasn't this winded after running, but he guessed it was a side-effect of the hits to the chest.

By the time he caught his breath, he heard the police sirens screaming through town, and as one cruiser passed him, Dick began to follow it.

The car eventually pulled over next to a building with flames trying to escape out of the windows. The police and firemen were trying to save people and get the fire under control, but Dick was looking around for it's source.

He was so focused on looking for the start of the fire, that he didn't hear the person behind him, until they took the watch from his hoodie pocket and dashed off.

Dick turned around in time to see a shadow flash across the roofs and then Dick was instantly up the nearest fire escape, chasing after the figure.

He cursed his own stupidity for keeping the watch in his hoodie. It should have been in his secret pocket, but he had forgotten, and apparently the glimmering chain had attracted the thief.

Oh, the irony. A thief getting robbed by another thief.

He was closing in on the figure and seized his opportunity with the flag pole.

And so when he flipped in front of them, the first impression he received was red hair, deeper in color than Wally's.

The second impression was the arrow currently pointed at his throat.

Dick froze, slowly putting his hands up. He wasn't sure if he was going to try and catch the arrow, or just seem less threatening, but apparently the latter worked, as the boy in front of him stopped glaring so hard and instead seemed curious.

"Who are you?"

"Apparently a mind-reader, because I was about to ask the same question." The red-head glowered and readjusted his grip on the handle of his bow. Dick swallowed and craned his head away from the chipped and broken tip of the arrow. "Um, kidding?"

Dick watched apprehensively as the older boy's stern face relaxed marginally. "My name is Dick." That seemed to break the deal for the other boy, and he relaxed the tension on the string and pointed it towards the ground.

"Why are you chasing me?"

Dick frowned and snapped, "You stole my watch!"

The older boy blinked in surprise, before snarkily replying, "So?"

"So, I want it back." He just folded his arms and shook his head.

"I need it."

"Well so do I."

"I need it to live to the end of the week. Do you really need it that badly?" Dick hesitated, and in that moment, the other said, "I thought not."

"Why do you need my watch?"

"None of your business," the older boy snapped before turning and starting to walk away. Dick grabbed his wrist and pulled him back towards himself.

"I don't mind giving you the watch, but I at least have the right to know why." The teen froze, before sighing in defeat and turning back to face Dick.

"Fine." He then sat and Dick almost collapsed next to him, coughing heavily into his elbow. The boy watched Dick for a moment before asking if he was okay.

"I'm fine." The skeptical eyebrow was expected, and ignored.

Upon having no further response, the older boy started explaining.

"I suppose you'll need my name. It's Roy. Anyway, I'm part of the Red Fist gang, in Star City." Dick had heard rumors about them , and their famous brutality that earned them their name. "I was told to recover some papers and while I was there, I knocked over a candle, stuff blew up and you know the rest."

"But what about my watch?"

Roy looked uncomfortable. "We have to give the leaders a certain amount of stuff each week to continue to be part of the group. And once you join, there's only one way out." At this point he looked away, and Dick understood. Like most high level gangs, Red Fist dealt with people the most thorough way.

Dead kids don't tell secrets.

Roy had stood and brushed himself off while Dick was thinking, and had been watching him. His sudden question brought Dick out of his revere.

"How old are you anyway, kid?"

Dick scowled. "I'm not a kid. I'm eleven."

Roy snorted in amusement. "I'm four years older than you, so by definition, you _are_ a kid."

"Definition tends to be a lot different than my reality." Roy looked at him appraisingly and saw someone much older than the supposed eleven year old in Dick's eyes.

When they exchanged goodbyes, Dick locked eyes with Roy and knew that he and Roy were very similar.

They weren't people who gave up, or tried to make the most out of the time they had left.

They were survivors, and they would do anything to keep it that way.

* * *

I was just poking around my account when I noticed somthing epic.

This story has over five thousand views! How can I thank all you wonderful people? Virtual cookies all around!

And before I forget, some people have been asking when Dick will get a real home, and I assure you, it will happen. Just not right away.

Soon! (Maybe)

Any comments, concerns, ideas? Leave a comment!


	8. Chapter 8

A rant I feel necessary to make now:

Okay, so when someone is recovering from trauma, they sometimes like to be close to people they like. So Dick will become very close with other super heroes like Wally, Roy, Bruce, etc. There will be NO ROMANCE.

I hug my brother (when he's not driving me insane) and a couple of my friends of the same gender and opposite. It's just fine to do that. So if there is any cuddling here, it does not mean I am making Dick fall in love with Wally.

I apologize if you were looking for that here, but you won't find **_any_** romance (het or slash) in any of my stories. That includes relationships between super heroes, unless they are canon (and even then it'll be obscure). I have no heart to write such things.

Also, if any characters seem weirdly trusting at any time, I'm sorry, but the plot _does_ need to move forward at some point.

For those of you who never any thought that, I'm sorry for taking up your time. Go right ahead and read.

* * *

Breathing had become much harder over the past few days. Dick had expected it on the first day after waking up with bruised ribs, but three days later and he still felt as if his ribs were actually made of knives, and every time he breathed, they sliced deeper into him.

Dick winced and resisted the urge to curl into a ball, knowing it would put further pressure on his ribs. He pressed a hand over his mouth, although he wasn't sure if it was to keep himself from coughing (unbearably painful, to the point of passing out) or to make sure he didn't vomit. Again.

Of course he would manage to catch a nasty cold on top of his busted ribs.

Sighing, Dick pushed himself out of bed and started walking over to his stream of water. Luckily it was moving water and probably wouldn't freeze over this year, no matter how cold it's been in comparison to previous years.

Walking was a painful chore, but Dick had realized that stopping made it worse. So he was always trying to move, at least a little bit. At this point Dick wasn't positive that he could start moving again if he stopped.

If there was one positive thing about this whole mess, it was that Dick's ribs weren't broken or fractured. If they had been, it would be a lot more dangerous. And God forbid if one of them had splintered under Tanner's relentless attacks.

He would've died slowly. Very slowly.

Dick was getting tired of all the depressing thoughts and decided that he could try going out tonight. He pulled on the gray hoodie he got from Batman and lifted a small brick out of the wall next to his bed. Dick kept an emergency supply of medicine, pilfered from anyone and anyplace he could find.

Dick double checked the expiration date on the ibuprofen and decided it was safe. There were only a few of the small pills in the jar and Dick had no idea where he would restock.

He popped the pills dry and then headed out the exit towards the subway.

* * *

The sun had just set from the reminiscent streaks of red on the horizon and night was already invading the city. The lights were on but that didn't stop the shadows from lurking in the alleys and in all the places where anyone would pray for a little bit of light.

Dick hurried onto the sidewalks, flinching slightly at the icy pavement. Logically, Dick knew he shouldn't be out here with a cold, bruised ribs, and no shoes, but Dick's head was a little fuzzy at the moment, so he didn't particularly pay attention to the tiny voice in his head urging him to go back inside.

It was silenced by loud alarms coming from a few streets over.

Dick snapped his head towards the sound, body moving forward before his mind even caught up to the fact that there was an alarm. Dick dazedly realized that his mind was about ten steps behind his body. Then he cursed. That meant he would have little to no filter and say whatever thought crossed his mind.

He was mentally yelling at himself when he skidded to a halt, taking in the sight before him.

The front of a jewelry store had been smashed to bits, glass scattered both inside the store and onto the street. Five men were tossing bags into a black truck and they were starting to hop into it. Dick took all that in within seconds, but his eyes were focused on the paradoxically shining shadow, sitting on the rooftop of the jewelry store.

As he watched, it leaped off of the building, flipped, and then landed silently on the ground in front of the men. "I believe you have something of mine, boys." The shadow purred, and Dick grinned, immediately recognizing the voice.

Catwoman smirked before sashaying over to one of the men and casually running a hand down his chest. "Won't you give those bags to me?" She asked in a sultry voice, toying with the men.

A couple seemed ready to accept her offer, but the man Catwoman was leaning on swatted angrily at her hand. "We ain't got anythin' o' yours. Now get." He laughed, and made a shooing motion with his hands, eliciting laughter from his companions as well.

Catwoman just smiled before wrapping a clawed hand around the man's neck and lifting him off the ground. A sweet smile was his only warning before he was tossed headfirst into a brick wall.

The other men startled out of their lust-induced haze and started moving to attack Catwoman, but unfortunately for them, she already had her whip out and in motion. The bullwhip sliced through the air, slapping one man upside the head and he dropped like a stone. Another was tripped at the ankles and he rolled several times before hitting the wall next to his friend.

While Catwoman was battling a third man, she didn't notice a fourth creeping up behind her.

Three things happened all at once: Catwoman took out the third man with a whip to the throat, the fourth moved to punch her in the head, and Dick jumped and slammed a kick into his head, taking him out from the side.

At the sound of the man falling, Catwoman turned, prepping for a fight, only to falter for a moment upon seeing the child. Dick turned and gave her a brilliant smile.

Suddenly he was wrapped in warm arms before being immediately released to see Catwoman returning his smile. "Birdie! Did you save me from the big ugly man?"

Dick snorted. "Like you need saving. You probably already knew he was there."

"I did. But it was nice of you to save me the trouble of being hurt." Dick laughed and Catwoman stood up, still smiling warmly at him. Dick glanced up at her, curious.

"Did you say that these guys had something of yours? They actually managed to take something from _you_?"

"Oh right!" Catwoman walked over to the man that she had tripped earlier. He was stirring, blinking slowly and trying to assess his surroundings. Catwoman grabbed him by the hair and pulled him up off of the ground. "I don't suppose you'll tell me where my necklace is?"

It took the man a few seconds to remember how to answer before he slurred, "N't gun'a tell." This was _not_ the answer Catwoman was looking for.

She slammed his head into the wall, and then asked him the same question, still in the light-hearted tone of voice. This time he gave a satisfactory answer.

Apparently the fear woke him up enough to stop slurring, but it did make him stutter. "J-Jamie got it n-now. I du-dunno where. P-please-" Whatever he was about to ask for was abruptly cut off by Catwoman slamming his head into the brick again, this time knocking him out.

She stood, dusting off her hands before tilting her head and innocently asking, "Wanna go on a treasure hunt?"

* * *

Dick had met Catwoman two years into his time on the streets. By this point, he was getting used to stealing enough to eat, without getting noticed. But once in a while, like the night he met Catwoman, he slipped up and stole something a bit more _precious_.

The object in question that night was a happy coincidence, a side effect of hearing about a robbery from two idiots. Dick had been on the rooftops when he heard the goons heated arguments over breaking into a jewelry store at nine o'clock.

True to their word, they were there on the dot at nine, and Dick watched from afar as they smashed open the windows and took some of the jewelry. What he hadn't expected was the shadow to appear on another rooftop.

The person was a blur of motion, taking out two of the men faster than Dick could see. The other three ran, although one was taken out before he took two steps. Dick hadn't seen who it was, but he noticed the glimmer of gems from his rooftop position and decided to investigate.

A gold bracelet, inlaid with pearl and rubies, lay innocently on the sidewalk and Dick snatched it up without thinking further than his stomach. He had no money for food that week and needed anything he could get.

Dick rounded a corner, clutching the bracelet to his chest. He thought he had gotten away from whoever it was that attacked the gang, but when Dick saw the hand coming at him from the corner of his eye, he knew that he was going to have to fight.

And probably lose.

Dick was ready for anything-anything except what he saw.

A woman in a skin-tight leather suit stood in front of him, a mask and goggles obscuring part of her face. Curiously enough, there were also cat ears perched on the top of her head. That made him realize that he was trying to run from Catwoman. Dang it. He was startled when she spoke to him. "Would you please give me that back?"

Although pleasantly surprised by her manners, Dick was still quick to snap, "No. I need it, so just leave me alone!"

Catwoman crossed her arms and casually leaned against the building next to her. "Oh really?" She asked, skepticism dripping from her words. "And why's that? A present for a special someone?"

"I need it to eat for the first time this week. And besides," he muttered ignoring her shocked expression. "I don't have anyone special to give it to."

Catwoman regarded him with an expression unusually lacking in pity, instead being filled with empathy. Dick flinched when the bracelet was snatched from his hand, but it was replaced with several dollar bills.

"It's all I have on me. Don't spend it all in one place."

By the time he looked up, she was gone. The next day he read a newspaper article on how Catwoman had returned the jewelry and caught the would-be thieves.

They had continued to meet several times and eventually Catwoman told him about her background as a prostitute, and Dick understood how she knew to be so cautious around him, never giving him more than fleeting touches or the extremely rare hug. He wasn't a prostitute, but he didn't like to be touched.

Dick came to like talking with her and she started calling him "Birdie." He didn't mind after a couple times. It occasionally bothered him that she treated him like a child, but he couldn't change her mind on it, so he just gave up. He did occasionally call her by her real name to try and bother her, but she was unfazed.

He and Catwoman did not meet up often, and rarely for more than a couple minutes. She was nice but purposely restrained, trying her hardest not to push him over the edge of his comfort.

* * *

Dick and Catwoman flew over rooftops, dark blots against the night sky. It was exhilarating, effortless, to allow his feet to carry him at almost inhuman speeds over the city.

Catwoman leaped off of the roof, lightly landing on her feet on the ground a few stories below. Dick followed, slowing his fall by catching onto the fire escape and kicking off.

When he landed, a wave of nausea washed over him and he distantly heard Selina asking if he was alright. It took him a moment to register the question and assure her that he was fine. Catwoman looked skeptical, but accepted his answer for the moment and turned to face the building in front of them.

It was dirty and covered in graffiti, and Dick could hear the music spilling out from the inside. Catwoman pushed the door open, only to find the room empty. "Where are they?" She asked as they moved further into the room.

Dick was the one to find the answer, as he noticed the closet door was slightly open. When he fully opened it, he saw a ladder descending into the ground and called Catwoman over. "Huh." Was all she had to say before Dick started climbing down, hearing Selina follow after him.

He heard voices coming from the right, he took that tunnel. Dick had no doubt that Catwoman was following him, even if he couldn't hear her silent footsteps.

* * *

Several minutes of walking later, the sound of the voices had increased along with Dick's concern. A couple minutes back, he had recognized the tunnel they were in as the one that led to his home in the collapsed section of subway tunnels.

His worries turned out to be correct, because when Dick turned the corner of the tunnel, he saw roughly seven men standing right next to the rubble that hid his home from view. Dick was about to warn Selina when he realized that she was no longer standing next to him.

"Hello boys." The men jerked and looked up at the sound of her voice. Dick considered smashing his head into the wall next to him. Then he sighed as the men moved to attack Catwoman, deciding to just join her in the melee and hope nothing bad happened.

The first few men went down easily, as expected, but the remaining three threw something totally unexpected at them. Literally.

The lit sticks of dynamite narrowly missed Dick's head, slamming into the wall behind him and exploding, knocking him off of his feet.

His ears were ringing, pain encasing his body in a familiar grip. Dick forced himself to get up on one elbow, before the pain from his chest became too much and he froze in place, barely breathing through the pain.

Dick was unaware of the other men being brutally beaten by Catwoman, unable to think much more than to realize his desperate need for air.

At one point, some small part of his brain registered that his ramshackle home was gone, brought down by an idiot who thought it was a good idea to throw dynamite underground. Even if the dynamite didn't ruin it, the tremors would've brought the walls crashing down, burying any trace of him under several feet of rubble.

The soft hand on his shoulder made Dick jerk away, although he immediately regretted it as his chest tightened even further, causing him to huff out a painful breath.

Selina had taken off her hood and he could see the black soot smeared over her cheeks, along with a splash of blood. She was looking at him worriedly, her mouth moving as if in slow motion.

Dick belatedly realized she was probably talking to him and tried to answer, but his tongue felt like it was weighed down with lead, and suddenly he was drowning in darkness. The last thing Dick heard was his own name shouted at him.

* * *

As it had been for the past three days, pain was what greeted Dick upon waking. This time it was sharper on his hands and one spot on his thigh, and the pain in his chest had become heavier, feeling as if he had something sitting on him.

Dick forced himself upright, brain slowly catching up to the fact that he was in bed, in a house. Alone.

Just as he started panicking, Dick felt his hand hit something thin, that crackled when he touched it. He picked up the note and quickly read it, relaxing minutely when he was done.

_'Hey Birdie,_

_I didn't know where you lived, so I brought you back to my place. I wanted to stay until you woke up, but I had work today._

_**Please** stay here until I can get back and check you over. I didn't want to without your permission._

_There's food in the fridge if you're hungry._

_Selina'_

Dick laughed at the little cat face drawn next to Selina's signature and set out to find the food she'd mentioned.

* * *

It had been a half an hour since Dick had woken up, and he was leaving Selina's apartment. He had eaten and tried (honestly) to stay here, but Dick couldn't stand not knowing if anything could be salvaged from his former home.

Dick left a note saying that he was going home and apologizing for not staying. He also promised to try and make it back later. Dick wondered how mad she would be as walked the streets. His breaths appeared as short white puffs and he walked faster, hoping to get somewhere where his feet wouldn't freeze off.

The first tunnel he'd found was blocked off, as was the second and third. Dick was about to try his fourth and only hope when he coughed.

It was nothing to worry about, just clearing his throat, but soon the coughs racked his frame and he fell to his knees. Dick was bewildered as he struggled to take in air past the mucus in his throat. He had no idea what had caused this, but the world had started greying out at the edges, and he curled up against the wall.

Right before he passed out, Dick heard his name and looked up. His vision was blurry, but he could have sworn he saw bright red hair, and a face that was missing the smile it normally bore.

Dick smiled and muttered, "Wally." Before the world tilted and went black.

* * *

On that note, I hope you all have a happy Thanksgiving!

Thanks to **Dissemination** for the chapter idea!

Please review with comments, questions, or suggestions.


	9. Chapter 9

I can't make even begin to apologize for the wait. So I'll stop talking and let you read.

Wally POV.

**Trigger warnings: Abuse, violence (it gets pretty bad when Wally comes home, please skip if it offends/disturbs you)**

* * *

Time is a strange being. Sometimes it passes so fast it's barely a breeze in the middle of a still day. And then other times, it's so tedious in it's passing that it appears to be almost solid, choking off all thought until it melts to a slightly faster pace.

Wally was well acquainted with how fast time passed. Ever since the accident in the lab, time had become fluid for him, allowing him to crazily speed up, until it appeared as if everything else was in slow motion.

But now he suddenly found himself unable to move fast enough-this time he was the one in slow motion, the air catching his limbs and fixing them in place as he stared at Dick, lying curled up on the ground, clutching his abdomen tightly.

Wally cried out Dick's name again and time instantly started flowing properly. He rushed to Dick's side. Wally's hands were a blur as they hovered over him, trying to check him over without touching.

"Oh man, oh man, ohmanohmanohmanohman." Wally spoke faster and faster as he took in the shallow breaths and faintly blue lips of his new friend. Dick didn't stir when Wally placed a hand on his head, patting his hair hesitantly. It seemed to be the only place that wasn't his chest (obviously the source of pain) or covered in various scratches and cuts.

Wally's own bruises seemed to fade into the background of his thoughts.

_What do I do?_ Wally wondered as he chewed on his lip. He couldn't call home (no one there would help him), and he got the feeling that Dick would rather die where he was than go to a hospital.

A few seconds of scattered thinking that felt like a millennium and then Wally shot to his feet. "Uncle Barry!" Wally started sprinting out of the alley, then spun on a heel and ran back to Dick. "I'll be right back, I promise. I'll get help. Just-" _hold on,_ Wally's head screamed, but he couldn't say it out loud.

Because that made the chance that Dick wouldn't make it too real.

In an instant, Wally was dialing a street phone and praying that his uncle would pick up. _Come on, come on._ He was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet when he heard a click and then a sleepy, _"Hello? Who's this?"_

"Uncle Barry! It's Wally."

_"Wally?"_ He could hear something rustling and soft murmuring. Probably Aunt Iris in bed, wondering who was calling at three AM. _"What's wrong kiddo? Shouldn't you be in bed?"_

"I need your help, please!"

The desperate pitch to Wally's voice had captured Barry's attention and his voice grew sharper. _"What's going on?"_

"A-a friend of mine. He's hurt real bad, but I can't take him to the hospital."

_"Why?"_

"I just can't"

A moment of silence, then-_"Alright. Where are you? And where's your dad?"_

"I'm in Gotham."

_"What?!" _Wally flinched._ "Why on earth are you-agh, never mind. What about your dad?"_

"I dunno. Last I knew he was going drinking with friends." If you could call the liquor bottles his friends. He surely cherished them more than anything else.

A sharp curse emitted from the other end. _"So you're alone in one of the most dangerous cities, in the middle of the night with no adult nearby, and a friend that's badly injured."_

Wally lowered his head. "I'm sorry. I just-" He cut off, swallowing thickly. "Please help," he whispered desperately.

He could practically feel his uncle's gaze softening and the gentle voice confirmed it. _"I'm not mad at you, Wally. Your father-anyway, I can't get to Gotham in under an hour. But I need you to at least tell me what street you're on."_

"One sec." Wally dropped the phone and dashed a couple streets over to check the street sign and briefly place a trembling hand underneath Dick's nose. Just in case. Then he was back to the phone. "An alley off of 47th street. It has a big red smile spray-painted on the wall."

He heard a sharp intake of breath. _"Alright. Try to hide yourself and your friend and I'll be there as soon as I can. But if any cops show up, go with them. They can help."_

"Please hurry."

_"I will. Be safe."_ Before the line dropped, Wally heard a car starting and the squealing of tires.

* * *

Wally had no idea how much time passed since he had called his uncle. He had managed to pull Dick and himself into a corner mostly hidden by a decaying car.

He had tried to arrange Dick to be more comfortable, sitting him upright and curling up around him (Dick was much too small. Wally wasn't one to talk, but he could feel each and every one of Dick's ribs through the hoodie he was wearing). It was freezing tonight and Dick was already much too cold.

As he sat there, vigilant over his friend's health, the aches and pains that he had gathered earlier came back to Wally. The pain was familiar, and it kept him awake while he kept watch.

The physical wounds didn't really hurt, but they rubbed salt into an ever-growing emotional scar.

Wally tightened his fingers on his knees at the sharp memory of shouted words and shattered bottles. He couldn't remember what the exact words were, or what he had done to deserve them tonight. All he could remember was his mantra, the one he repeated several times a day.

_I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._

He didn't realize that he was mouthing the words, but his head jerked up at the sound of someone approaching. The crunching of boots on the icy snow made Wally tense up. He slowly moved away from Dick, unwinding his spotted arms from his chest.

The boots came closer, until a rough voice called out softly, "I'm not going to hurt you." Wally made no sound. "I swear. I'm here to help."

Wally partially covered his mouth, angling his hand to the side. He threw his voice further into the alley when he said, "How do I know that you're not lying?"

The trick worked, and the owner of the mysterious voice moved closer to the car, still facing the end of the alley. Wally gasped in a combination of fright and shock as the figure turned towards him and smirked. The tips of his cowl stood out in the faint light from the street lamp.

"I'm Batman. I don't lie."

Wally abruptly stood up and moved forward. He grabbed onto Batman's arm, barely even thinking about the fact that the man could break him with a glance (Probably. He's _Batman_).

"Please, help my friend. He's hurt real bad." The faint edges of the smirk vanished.

"Where?"

Wally ran back over to Dick, taking care not to slip up and move too fast. He'd kept the secret too long for that. Batman moved closer surprise flitting over his face when he saw Dick. Wally thought he saw something else too (a flash of regret?) But then Batman was moving, picking up Dick and striding out of the alley.

Normally, the sight of both Batman and the Batmobile would have Wally practically fainting out of excitement. Now though, he was more worried about the barely-there breaths that Dick was taking. He had gotten worse in the short time they'd been together and Wally was so focused on watching Dick's chest rise up and down that he barely responded when Batman picked him up and put him in the back with Dick.

One hand on Dick's shoulder, the other gently holding his hand, Wally West prayed to a God he didn't believe in. He prayed the entire ride back, lips silently moving in fervent prayer. Wally may not have known the words, but he would've memorized the Bible if it meant that Dick wouldn't die next to him tonight.

* * *

The sight of the Batcave did slightly startle Wally, enough that he let go of Dick when an older man dressed in a pressed suit came in and lifted him out of the Batmobile.

Both he and Batman rushed off into some corner of the cave, but Wally didn't pick up a single word that was said. Now that he was safe (right?), his body finally registered the bone deep weariness that had taken root earlier that night.

He vaulted over the side of the Batmobile, and managed to head in the direction the two men had taken Dick. Wally heard their voices coming from behind a closed door and held up his hand to knock. He faltered, knowing that he would be of no use.

Instead, he sat with his back to the wall, arms around his knees.

An hour later, that's how Batman found him when he left the room. Wally hadn't moved once since he'd sat down, a combination of wanting to be there when Dick woke up, him having no idea where else to go, and the sheer inability to move.

Batman watched him for a few seconds before silently offering him a hand. He hesitated, but Batman was still holding out his hand and Wally didn't want to be rude.

"Is Dick okay?" Batman briskly nodded before heading back towards the main room. He sat down at his computer and started typing rapidly, but his computer encoded it right away.

"He was severely beaten and that left his ribs bruised, and on top of that, he contracted pneumonia." Wally inhaled sharply. "Most likely he thought he had just contracted a cold or something like that. His symptoms sharply increased after being exposed to smoke and dust of some sort. Probably from the explosion in the tunnels earlier."

Wally tried to swallow all the information and then quietly asked, "Will he live?"

Batman stopped typing and looked straight at Wally. "I can't promise anything," he began slowly, "but if he makes it through today, he'll probably live."

Some knot of tension that he didn't know existed, unraveled in Wally's chest. He sighed and murmured "Thank you," although he wasn't quite sure who he was addressing: Batman or God.

Suddenly, Wally remembered about his uncle. "I'm sorry, but do you have a phone I could borrow? I need to tell my uncle I'm okay." He missed the slight grin on Batman's face, but grabbed the phone Batman offered him with a nod of thanks.

The phone only rang once when it was picked up. _"Wally? Is that you? Are you alright? Where are you?"_

Wally giggled at the rapid fire questioning. "Yes, it's me, I'm okay, and you'll never guess where I am."

_"Safe? Because that's all I really care about right now."_

He was touched by the concern coloring his uncle's tone. "Yes, I'm perfectly safe. Safer than I would normally be I think."

_"How so?"_

"Well, I don't normally have Batman protecting me so..." Wally trailed off with a grin on his face.

A few stunned seconds of silence, then _"Batman?"_

"Yeah, he picked up my friend and I and brought us to the Batcave. It's so cool here!" Wally felt some of his normal exuberance returning as he glanced around, to see that Batman had left at some point while he was talking.

_"Is he your favorite hero?"_

He frowned. "Why? Hey, you sound kinda weird Uncle Barry. Are you alright?"

_"Fine."_

_Liar,_ Wally thought. He'd figure it out later. "And no."

_"No what?"_

"Batman's not my favorite hero. I mean he's cool and everything, but still not my favorite. Don't tell him, but my favorite is Flash."

More silence followed, but when his uncle spoke again, he sounded much more cheerful. _"So when can I get you? Obviously I can't waltz into the Batcave because it's y'know, secret."_

"Can I stay for today?"

_"Sure. Meet me at the park by six, alright?"_

"Six, got it. See you then."

_"See ya soon kiddo."_

Wally hung up and jumped when he heard a voice behind him. "Everything's alright then?"

"Yeah. I'm going to stay with Dick until he wakes up." He glared at Batman daring him to try and stop him. Wally was pretty surprised at himself. He hadn't acted with this much confidence in years.

"I thought you were supposed to be somewhere at six."

"He'll wake up before then."

"Well, if you're determined to wait," Another glare from Wally solidified his point, "Then you should eat something. He's not going to wake up for at least a few hours,"

Wally blinked. Food had been the furthest thing from his mind, but now that he thought about it, he hadn't eaten in a couple days. And his stomach chose now to start clamoring for food.

He blushed furiously, the tips of his ears turning red, and placed a hand on his stomach.

"I believe I may have something to help with that." The butler held a covered dish in his hand, and took off the metal cover to reveal a couple pieces of bread and some soup. Wally thanked him, and was drooling by the time he'd put soup in his mouth.

When he finished he was pulled aside by Batman, who insisted on looking at Wally's wounds. Wally tried to deter him, but Batman just ignored his protests.

Wally refused to take his eyes off the ground while being patched up, not wanting to see the questions or worse, the pity, that he knew would be in Batman's eyes. He was surprised when Batman did nothing but patch him up and direct him to Dick's room.

Wally gasped when he came inside, seeing the bandages wrapped around Dick's skinny torso peeking out from under the covers. Bruises stood out starkly against pale skin and the red cuts were even more vivid.

He sat next to Dick, and started prattling on about random nonsense. The constant noise and full stomach made him sleepy, so naturally, he would manage to fall asleep in the middle of a sentence.

* * *

Wally woke up to the sound of quiet muttering. His eyes snapped open and instantly fixed on Dick, who was twitching slightly on the bed. Nonsense sounds occasionally came out of his mouth, but otherwise he was unaware.

"C'mon Dickie. Wake up. You got this." Dark eyelashes fluttered against pale skin, before opening to reveal unfocused blue eyes.

"W'ly?"

Wally laughed and heard the door open behind him. "Yeah it's me, sleepyhead. Y'know, most people at least have a conversation before swooning at their friend's feet. Not even a "Hello, how are you Wally?" first?" Wally scoffed and stepped back to let the butler take his place. "Rude."

"N' my f'lt." Dick was forced upright gently and had hands moving over him, watching his face for signs of discomfort.

"Oh _really_. Well, it wasn't my fault."

Dick laughed, a raspy weak sound that actually hurt just to _listen_ to it. "'S Tanner's."

"Who?"

"Tanner Walsh. Owner of a small diner, and known mostly for his illegal gambling activities." Batman swept in and looked over Dick critically. "Currently being arrested by Commissioner Gordon."

Dick smiled at that, but it was clear that he was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. Wally came closer and told him, "I have to go now. But I'll come back and see you as soon as I can."

"You're goin' home?" Dick's eyes sharpened.

"I'll be fine." All he got was a skeptical look. "I swear."

"Mmm." Was all Dick managed before he was pulled back under by pain and the medicine that was currently dulling it. Wally turned to Batman, who was giving him the same critical stare he had given Dick earlier.

"Need a ride?"

* * *

The ride to the park passed in a blur, and Batman parked in the shadow of a building to stave off attention. Before Wally could jump out, Batman grabbed his wrist-not hard enough to hurt but Wally got the message.

"I won't pry into your life, because clearly you don't want me to." Wally swallowed hard. "All I ask is that you carry this." Batman pressed a small device into his hand. It looked like a phone, sleek and black. It flipped open and Wally saw the screen's background was the bat symbol. "It's a communicator."

"But..." _Why me?_

"You need someone just in case. I can't always be there, but I can always help in other ways." Wally continued to stare at the communicator. "Dick will also be getting one. You can contact him if you need to."

He looked up, gratitude shining in his eyes. "I-thank you. I really have to..." Wally trailed off.

"Go. You're uncle is right over there." Sure enough, Uncle Barry was pulling up near the entrance of the park. Wally hopped out of the Batmobile and ran over to him.

"Uncle Barry!" The man's attention snapped towards him.

"Wally!" Barry snatched him in a tight hug before looking him over. "Where did you get all these wounds?"

"My friend and I were out and we got jumped by some older boys. His ribs got badly bruised." Wally lied without thinking, brain automatically providing data from years of practice.

"Is he alright?"

"He will be. Can we go home?" He interjected, seeing more questions in his uncle's eyes. "I'm really tired."

"Of course. C'mon," Barry stood up and started moving to the car. "I'll take you home."

* * *

Wally had pretended to sleep for part of the ride, but ended up actually asleep. He woke up in his uncle's house, curled up on the couch with a blanket. It slid down to his waist as he sat up and looked around.

The clock said it was a little after ten, and Wally inhaled sharply. His dad was going to absolutely murder him. He scrambled off the couch and quickly scribbled out a note explaining that he had gone home.

He sprinted home, arriving in less than a minute. Wally's hand hesitated on the doorknob before gently turning it and pushing open the door. He stopped when it hit something that clinked, unbearably loud in the silent house.

Wally crept inside, hoping to escape detection and hopefully for his father to still be asleep. He was almost to his bedroom when he heard something whirling through the air. Wally ducked to the side and covered his head as the glass shards rained down.

"Finally decided to come home, huh you little-" a string of colorful words followed and Wally cringed with every step his father took towards him. "Think I wouldn't notice that you didn't come home? Thought I'd notice you skimping on your chores?"

Wally fervently shook his head, voice deserting him in his terror. The denial was ignored, as his father grew louder and louder.

"I bet you thought you'd get away for a day, take a break from your little chores." His father was now within arm's distance, a fact Wally was painfully aware of. "Well, now you get to pay for that little 'vacation'."

The first strike snapped his head to the side. He made no sound, but put his hands up to shield his head. They were slapped aside and the next punch got him in the stomach.

He fell to the ground, spit dropping off the corners of his mouth as he panted for breath. The loud snapping sound made him freeze, until his father commanded, "Up."

Dutifully he stood, turned around and braced for the first slash. The belt scored his back and Wally bit his lip hard. The next eight were excruciatingly painful as well, but the tenth clipped the back of his neck and Wally finally cried out-just once-and fell again.

"Best not try to leave again. Or next time I'm getting my shotgun."

His father walked off and Wally heard the sound of a beer can opening. He picked himself off the floor and staggered into his room. His bed no longer seemed inviting, so he curled up in a corner, by his window.

Wally pulled the communicator out of his pocket and ran a hand down it gently. _I've had worse. I can deal,_ was the last thing he thought before hiding it under his mattress and returning to his corner.

Two tears slipped over his freckles.

Sleep was a long time coming.

* * *

Poor Wally! What's worse, is he won't be in the next chapter or two (I think. There is a plan to all this.)

And as for the deal with Barry (Flash). Whe he stopped talking to Wally, he called Bats and asked him to look for him. That's how he knew exactly where they were.

Explanation time!

So it did take me a week to start writing, but I got around 3/4 of the way through this chapter when my computer died on me and erased all my work. It was fixed at the beginning of the week and I've been trying to find time since.

I understand if you all hate me. Sorry.

Please let me know what you think. Or I'll have Wally use puppy eyes on you.


	10. Chapter 10

Happy Holidays to everyone! And a late Merry Christmas!

Sorry this took so long to get to. I was crazy busy with family during Christmas, but now I'm back!

Note-Any medical procedures in this chapter were researched, but are still probably wrong, especially the treatments. So any medical professionals out there, I apologize, but I hope you enjoy anyway!

* * *

Crushing, sickeningly heavy weight was currently crushing Dick into the soft mattress he was lying on. It felt to him like a huge rock was sitting on top of him, carelessly breaking every rib he had. Dick made a futile effort to move, but the most he could do was twitch his hands and sluggishly move his eyes under their lids.

_Why can't I move?_ Dick hazily questioned himself. He twitched his fingers again in a fruitless effort to move, but once again, that was all he could do.

Internally, he snarled in frustration. Then he tried to turn his mind to why he was so incapacitated. The haze that invaded every thought seemed familiar, something that only happened once in a great while...

_Drugs, _Dick realized._ I'm only like this on pain killers. Which **clearly** aren't working nearly well enough._

While Dick tried to remember why on earth he would be a) in some strange house, and b) immobilized from pain killers, all he got was more drugged haze and a flash of bronze tinted red.

He remembered flashes if what happened with Selina, and having his home get blown to bits. Seriously, they were _underground_ in an abandoned section of tunnel that was probably unstable, and some freaking idiot decides to bring dynamite to the party. How stupid can you get?

Dick huffed in annoyance and immediately regretted it. It changed the weight on his chest into sharp splinters of pain, _plus_ the insane weight. Just asterous.

He tried to shift to escape the pain, but it only brought more, so he wisely stopped moving, and refocused on memories to distract himself.

The idiot came to mind first, but Dick decided to skip over him. No use crying over the rubble of your home for the past four years and all the money and supplies that was inside. He'll have to start all over again in the middle of January.

January means cold, and the thought of cold brought up another memory. The flash of bronze returned, with his name being called loudly, tinged with fear. He only had snatches of what transpired after, the feeling of a warm body next to his freezing one, a swirl of black cape, and then hands on him, prodding and stinging at ribs, a rough voice, and then more blackness.

He had a semi-recollection of his conversation with Wally, and how he simply brushed aside Dick's concerns. After that, nothing. Dick frowned and wished that out of everything, he wishes he couldn't remember the brief moment where sheer and utter terror stole over Wally's features before it was concealed behind a flicker of white teeth and his friend leaving the room.

Dick was dragged from his morose thoughts by the sound of a handle turning. He tensed briefly before relaxing into mock sleep. The intruder walked in, their heavy footsteps falling just short of the bed.

"You can drop the act. I already know that you're awake." The gruff tone tried-and failed-to cover up the concern beneath it. Internally, Dick laughed. He knew Batman would firmly disagree with his judgement, because _obviously_ Batman didn't care about anyone.

Unlike his earlier attempts, this time when Dick tried to open his eyes, he actually managed to crack one. The harsh lights above him stung until his eye adjusted and he could see the shadow looming over his head. He tried to make a sarcastic comment, but all that came out was the sound of a rusty gate opening.

"Here." Suddenly a glass was in front of him, containing the best water he'd ever had. Probably because it wasn't filled with rust, germs, dirt, or a combination of the three.

Trying not to drink so fast that he would make himself start choking, Dick flopped his head back onto the pillow when he was done. Then he smirked up at Batman and struggled to speak through the pressure in his lungs and throat (and now that he thought about it-his head too).

"Ya know...you're much nicer...when I'm...dying. Do you do this...for everyone you meet...or am I _special_?"

Batman didn't appear (that didn't mean he _wasn't_) amused by Dick's lecherous smile and reprimanded, "You just woke up from a mini-coma, while still having pneumonia, and _that's_ what you choose to say when you finally return to conciousness?"

"Well to be...fair, I didn't know about...the coma or pneum-" He cut himself off with a rattling coughing fit that cut off his airway for a few terrifying moments. It tapered off and Dick wheezed out, "-onia."

"Yes, apparently you contracted it by inhaling something that damaged your lungs. Judging by the slight erosion of lung tissue, it was acidic, presumably vomit. Most likely, bacteria settled in the wounded areas and caused the pneumonia."

Batman continued to analyze as he walked over to a drawer and pulled out a syringe. "You also have a cracked rib and several bruised ones, along with slight internal bleeding. And faint traces of frostbite on your toes. Nothing serious, but it was there."

Dick was expecting him to bring up his lack of shoes, but Batman continued, "Your fever was hovering around 102 while your friend was here, but soon after he left, it shot up to about 104. Your body essentially shut down, causing the mini-coma."

Batman plunged the syringe into an IV drip that Dick only took notice of now. His brain wasn't exactly on point at the moment. "Whatzat?" He slurred. Odd, he had been speaking mostly clearly before.

"Morphine and suppliments. You need them if you wish to remain alive. I presume you do."

Before the drugs dragged him under, Dick tried to say something, but it came out so slurred that even he had no idea what he said.

* * *

The next time he woke up, Dick's head was much clearer, he could breathe a little easier, and the weight on his chest became replaced by pain. Bright vivid pain that sliced into every crystal clear thought he had.

"Gah." Was all he could articulate. Along with clear thoughts and pain, Dick also regained the use of his limbs, and he propped himself up with an elbow.

"I do not suggest moving, Master Richard. You may have recovered, but only marginally." Agent A moved into his field of vision, a gentle smile gracing his features. "It is good to see you awake."

"Nice to see you again too." Woah. A full sentence without wheezing or slurring, a veritable miracle. So naturally, because the world loves to mess with him and make him anything _but_ traught, it was the perfect time to have a coughing fit.

When the world came back, Dick registered the gentle hand on his back, rubbing softly. A weak grin was given in return along with a hoarse "Thank you."

"'Tis no problem. Now, time for your medicine."

Dick pulled a face while Agent A bustled around various drawers. He had two syringes and a spoonful of red liquid by the time he was done. The syringes he set on a table next to the cot I was lying on. The spoon he held up and looked Dick in the eye. "Either you can take this willingly, or I will force you to take it."

Dick still eyed it skeptically. "I'm sure Batman could inform you of the many times I've done the same to him." The words made him sputter and laugh, which give the butler time to slip the spoon between his lips. Dick found he really couldn't mind, because the image of Agent A beating up Batman to force-feed him medicine, was making him hysterically laugh.

Unfortunately it set off another round of coughing, and by the time he had it under control, Agent A was slipping the syringe out of the IV bag and setting it next to the other one.

"I think you're more evil than the giant Bat in the other room. That was downright cruel."

He smirked before collecting the syringes and spoon. "As cliche as I'm sure you think this is," Agent A's words drifted together as the drugs took effect, "It is all in your best interest."

Agent A was right. That was downright cliche.

* * *

Immediately upon waking, without even moving his eyes, the first words out of Dick's mouth were, "No more drugs. No more conniving butlers tricking me into taking medicine. No more."

"I can't promise you'll be entirely drug free, but I believe we can stop the morphine."

This time he did crack a lid. "No more."

"If we don't keep up with the medicine, you'll regress and then the morphine comes back. Your choice." Batman was standing next to his bed, reading the machine next to him.

Dick narrowed his eyes. Then he huffed in annoyance. "Fine." He scrubbed a hand over his face and slowly pushed himself further upright. He was already partially propped up on pillows, but he just needed to _move._

Batman helped him sit up and then asked, "How do you feel?"

"Like I have pneumonia and I've been drugged for several days." Dick paused. "How many days have I been here?"

"A little under two weeks. You've only been coherent a few times."

Moaning, Dick buried his aching head in his hands. Two weeks? God, he was really messed up this time.

"Your lungs are mostly cleared up now. There will be lingering effects, but technically you are mostly over the pneumonia." Batman looked minorly uncomfortable before he continued, "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"Several things. First of all, I acted out of place when I dismissed you before. Second, your home was destroyed, and third, you were vicously beaten and spent two weeks in a drug-induced haze, trying not to die."

"Well," Dick said as he casually crossed his hands behind his head. "Only one of those was your fault really. Two if you count the drugs. Unless you were the idiot who decided to throw dynamite underground. Or your name is Tanner. If so, then I totally blame you for those two."

"Only those two?"

"Eh, I already forgave you for the argument. I'm stubborn and so are you. And the drugs were a nessecary evil."

"You still don't have a place to live."

Dick froze. Then he forced himself to relax and waved a careless hand in Batman's direction. "I'll make do. Done it before."

"Or..." Batman started, before stopping himself.

"Or...?" Dick prompted. "Come on, don't just stop there." An easy grin made Batman relax marginally.

"You could stay with me." Batman watched him as he tried to process the information. Stay here? With Batman? And the sneaky but infinitely kind Agent A?

"I-you don't need to do that for me."

"It's not really an issue."

"Won't you have to tell me your secret identity?Aren't you worried that I'll tell people?"

"I'm sure you would've figured it out eventually, and wouldn't have told anyone."

"But what if I do?"

Batman stared steadily at him. "Would you?"

Dick sighed. "No. But can you afford to randomly sponsor a kid?"

Batman snickered and while Dick was marvelling over the fact that Batman could laugh (who knew, right?), he failed to notice that Batman was reaching for his cowl.

He threw it back and his dark blue eyes met Dick's lighter ones, full of utter shock. "Well, I_ am_ Bruce Wayne. I happen to have enough money to sponsor you."

"You-he-What?" Dick flopped backwards into the pillows and rubbed at his forehead, as if that could fix all the inner turmoil in there. "Okay, so a billionaire is running about in a bat-suit at night, beating up criminals, and taking in stray kids?"

"Yes."

"Okay, this is totally not whelming." Dick removed his hand from his head and stopped to look Batman in the eye. "Are you seriously offering me a home?"

"Yes, I am. You may leave any time you wish of course, but I'm betting you don't have anywhere to go."

Dick shook his head, laughing quietly. Why would someone like Bruce Wayne want to bother with an orphaned gypsy boy? Finally, Dick looked back at Batm-Bruce (it's gonna be a long time before he's used to that) and said, "Alright. On a couple conditions though."

"Oh?" Bruce raised an eyebrow. "And they are?"

"One," Dick held up an imposing finger, "I would like food at least once a day."

"How about three meals a day?"

"Deal. Number two, my own room, with a window I can climb out of at any time I please."

"That can be arranged."

"Perfect. The last one," Dick took a deep breath before continuing, "Tell me your butler's name."

Bruce blinked. "Why?"

He rolled his eyes. "I refuse to call him Agent A."

"Okay then." Bruce looked a bit confused, but also amused by his strange request. "Alfred Pennyworth."

Dick nodded thoughtfully. Alfred was much better than Agent A. With that decision made, he held out a hand to Bruce and said, "I believe we have come to an agreement, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce's face remained impassive, but his eyes sparkled with held back mirth. "I believe we do Mr...?"

"Grayson. Richard Grayson." A flicker of recognition passed through Bruce's eyes, but it was gone before Dick had a chance to analyze the other emotion that came with it.

"Alright then Mr. Grayson. It will be a pleasure to be associated with you, I'm sure."

"Likewise." Dick's face retained it's blankness for three seconds before he cracked and started cackling. Bruce cracked a grin as well, which just set Dick off on another bout of giggles.

"I presume the offer went well, Master Bruce?"

"Yes, Alfred. We now have a new boarder at Wayne Manor."

The butler smiled and bowed to Dick. "Then I shall be taking care of you from now on, Master Richard. Please feel free to call upon me should you require anything."

Dick's stomach growled. "Then could I please have some food?"

* * *

While he was eating, Bruce had vanished back into the cave, but Alfred had remained with Dick. He ate his soup as fast as he could, even though he was reprimanded for eating before it cooled.

When he finished, Alfred took his bowl and vanished briefly before reappearing in the doorway.

"Thank you for the soup. It was delicious."

"You are welcome. I hate to brag, but I do fancy myself a rather good cook." He smiled at that. "Would you like to get out of bed, Master Richard?"

"Yes!" Dick shot up at the chance. Then he realized he was probably being rude, and pulled back. "Sorry."

"No need to worry. Here, let me help you up."

A few minutes later, after Dick had practiced taking wobbling steps around the room, Alfred let him use the bathroom. When he finished, the butler helped him into the room with the giant computer. Bruce spun around when they came in and watched Dick make his way up to him.

"I see you made it out of bed." Dick nodded. "Would you like to see your room then?"

"Sure."

The trip was short, although by the end of it, Dick was exhausted. Bruce had brought them up an elevator that was hidden behind a fireplace, and then led him down a few hallways. "This one," he said while pointing towards a set of large wooden doors, "is my room. And this is yours." Almost halfway down the hallway from Bruce's room, was a light blue door, that opened into a large room.

It was roughly half the size of the cave that Dick had lived in. There was a large window, as he requested, with a balcony outside it. The bed was huge, although it was probably normal-sized to people who actually used beds. It had dark blue sheets, that blended in nicely with the rest of the blues and greys occupying the room.

"Will this suffice?"

"Depends. Can I use the bed now?"

"Go right ahead."

Dick fell face-first onto the bed with his arms spread wide. After being still for a few seconds, he pulled himself up and rolled over. He pulled the covers up and mumbled "Goodnight" before he was lost to the inky darkness, that was free of haze for the first time in weeks.

* * *

Sorry this took so long, but is so short. Life.

I'm sure you all get it.

I still totally look at any requests or ideas, and frequently use them. Don't be afraid to ask!

Oh, and on an semi-related note, to the guest who frequently comments, I appreciate that you like my story, but please don't keep asking me to update every day. I write this as fast as I can, whether it's in three days or three weeks. If there was anything I could do to update faster I would, but I cannot. I do not mean to offend you in any way, but you're pretty much wasting your time.

**By the way, my new friend Triscribe just came out with a fun YJ story, go check it out! It's really good so far :)**

Any comments, concerns, criticisms? (Ha, alliteration.) Please review and tell me!


	11. Chapter 11

Warning-This chapter contains blood, violence, and abuse.

Lighter warning-This chapter contains so much sweet fluff (does that make it cotton candy? I'm referring to it as such henceforth) in the beginning that it will rot you teeth. Arm yourself with a toothbrush

* * *

Three weeks of living with Batman had been an interesting learning opportunity for Dick.

First of all, Alfred had proved that he wasn't good at cooking. He was _ fantastic_. Dick may have been slightly biased, because he thought that a half eaten stale sandwich was good, but this man was a god in the kitchen.

Alfred never minded if Dick came into the kitchen while he was cooking. He said the same thing every time. "Hello, Master Richard. If you are going to help, please wash your hands."

Dick didn't mind helping. It reminded him of cooking with his mother, although they weren't really memories per se. Just a feeling of warm slender hands over his, the callouses catching slightly on his skin as they guided them through the motions of chopping vegetables.

Alfred showed him each and every step to make the meals. He never got mad if Dick did something wrong, or dropped food. Just smiled and showed him again.

Plus when they made cookies, he snuck Dick some of the dough.

* * *

Another thing about Alfred. He had saintly levels of kindness and patience.

Not everything fit so smoothly with Dick coming into the Wayne household. Dick was unaccustomed to living in a house. Even before his parents death, he had lived with them in their trailer, which played by an entirely different set of rules.

For the first few days, Dick had walked around on tiptoes, afraid to even breathe on the expensive, well, everything. Alfred had noticed, and one day when handing him his new clothes he whispered with a small grin, "You know, it's highly unlikely that your mere presence will break the furniture."

He stood up before he continued, "In fact, I will prove it. This afternoon, you and I shall have tea in the living room, and we shall see what happens."

Just like Alfred said, Dick met him in the living room to have tea. He'd never had tea before, but Alfred mixed sugar and honey into his and it tasted amazing. There were also cookies, but Dick didn't want them to get crumbs all over the carpet.

Suddenly Alfred was telling him about all his misadventures as a boy, and soon Dick was laughing so hard he forgot to be nervous, until he accidentally dropped his teacup. Tea spilled out, and Dick had gasped, horrified before apologizing profusely.

Alfred just smiled and waved away his concern. He pulled a cloth out from nowhere, and gently mopped up the drink. The carpet seemed to be resistant to liquid, so it was very easy to pick up all the tea.

"See, Master Richard? You need not worry about making a mess. I can fix anything." The gentle, reassuring smile that came with that eased his nerves, and Dick smiled back.

They now made it routine to have tea everyday at seven. They exchanged stories, of the past and present, or simply sat there and drank tea.

Dick was pretty certain that Alfred occasionally drugged his tea, because he would wake up in bed with no recollection of getting there, but feeling content after a full night's sleep.

* * *

Something he learned about Bruce-Bruce was superhuman, even without super powers.

Dick had started frequenting the cave. He was allowed to come in as long as he, and this is quoting Bruce, "Touch _ nothing_ without permission".

Of course, Dick took this as a challenge, and had asked Bruce, "May I touch the floor, the stairs, this chair, the tissues, myself, etc." until he conceded and just told him not to touch anything that was a weapon or in a display case. Or his computer.

Anyway, in the first week alone, Dick noticed that Bruce often came home slightly battered from crime fighting, then proceeded to work on the computer for a few hours, before crashing in bed for an hour or two and then working all day. It was insane, and frankly, he was surprised to see that Bruce was still standing.

He was so disturbed that he had asked Alfred (because obviously Bruce wouldn't tell him) what was going on.

"Master Bruce is a hardworking man. But he also refuses to recognize that he is human, and has limits. Which is why I will be drugging his food tonight to ensure he gets a full night's rest."

True to his word, Bruce was forced into bed that night. Alfred told him that he only has to do this when something is catching Bruce's attention. Now something was going on with the League. Sometimes it's Joker, or Penguin, or Bane. Any number of villains to pick from.

He also only drugs him on Saturday nights. Bruce Wayne always takes personal days on Sundays anyway, so no one would miss him.

It was hilarious to wake up the next morning and watch Bruce glare at Alfred while his black hair was ruffled and sticking up in strange directions.

* * *

The most recent thing he learned was that Wally now had a communicator-and Dick had a matching one.

Bruce had mentioned it off-handedly two weeks after giving him a communicator. Less than a week into his stay, Bruce had handed it to him and said, "Trouble always finds you. I figure this way you can at least tell me about it".

When Dick had heard that he could call Wally, he shot up and raced up the staircase out of the cave and into his room. Sure enough, when he scrolled through the available contacts, Wally's name was there as "Wallace West".

Dick snorted. Wallace. Did his middle name start with w too?

He tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for the line to connect. Finally it clicked and he heard a slurred, _"Hullo?"_

"Wally!"

_"Dick? Is'at you?"_

"Yeah! Isn't this cool? I got my own communicator and now we can talk to each other!" Dick was pacing around his dark room, grinning like an idiot.

_"Yeah. 'S great, and 'm glad you're feeling better, but why are you calling me at 2 AM?"_

What? Was it really-? Dick spun around and sure enough, the clock's blue numbers glowed back at him. 2:31. "Sorry Wally, I didn't notice." That explained the glares Bruce had been giving him for the past couple hours.

Bruce tended to dissaprove of Dick staying up as late a he did, but he had given up trying after the _ice cube incident._

_"'S okay. But can we finish this-" A huge yawn came from the other side. "Tomorrow?"_

He laughed. "Sure Wally."

And they did. They talked excitedly, squealing like little girls over the new means of communication. Then they just talked. About anything and everything. Favorite ice cream, most embarrassing moments, favorite superhero (Dick had been talking in the Batcave, and was sorely tempted to say he liked Superman better. But he would have been lying, and Bruce _was_ his landlord).

Since his parents death, Dick had felt nothing. Then when he met Bruce, Wally, Roy and Alfred, and he thought maybe, just maybe, he could remember how happy felt.

* * *

Dick was sneaking into the kitchen, determined to steal a cookie while Alfred was doing laundry. It was strange to actually have enough clothes to need to wash them, and he now had shoes. _ Shoes!_ (Grey sneakers with black streaks). Although it was weirder to have someone do it for him.

He had refused to let Alfred clean his room, but Alfred would not back down. They finally reached a mutual decision. Every day, Dick had a chance to clean anything he wanted before Alfred came in to tidy up at 4. Mostly, he just made the bed and collected laundry, because Dick didn't know how to do either.

Now, while Alfred was off being Alfred (A/N: AKA awesome! I'll leave now), Dick was silently gliding through the kitchen that was lit by the last vestiges of sunlight. Or he _was_ silently creeping, before his communicator started rapidly beeping.

"Wally, come on bro, I'm in the middle of a stealth mission!"

_"Dick..."_ the raspy voice on the other end of the line immediately alerted Dick that something was horribly wrong. The wet cough that followed simply cemented his fear, and the annoyance faded instantly.

"What's going on? Are you hurt?" Silence. "Wally!"

_"Shh."_ a barely-there whisper shushed him. Through the faint crackling of the communicator, Dick could hear Wally's harsh breathing and then clunking footsteps and the sound of something shattering.

Dick waited tensely, every muscle and thought on lockdown until he knew that his friend was safe, until he could see that Wally was fine, and wasn't bleeding, broken, _dying-_

_"Dick? A-Are you still there?"_

"Yes! Yes, I'm here. Wally, what happened? Please tell me you're okay."

_"I don't like to lie to friends."_

"Wally! Tell me what's going on, _right now_." He could practically hear the flinch from the other end, and softened his tone. "I'm not mad, but Wally, I_ need _to know."

_"Dick..." _A soft sob came through, _"Please help me."_

Dick swallowed hard, eyes wide. He barely registered that he was moving towards the knife drawer, and pulling several small ones out along with two large ones, one with a serrated edge. "Are you at home?" It took conscious effort to keep his voice and feet soft, as he walked to the front door and slipped on his shoes.

_"Y-Yes, come quick please I need you, comegetmesavemepleasepleaseplease!"_

With every word, Wally speed up until they were one unending stream of pleas for safety. "Shh, shh, it's okay. Stay hidden and be quiet for me, okay? Wally? Can you do that for me? I'm already on my way, but I need you to do that. Please?"

His gentle words had the desired effect and he heard a soft _"Okay."_

"I'm coming Wally, I'm coming to help you, and right now I need to hang up, but I promise I'm coming as fast as I can go. I'll be there soon." A whimper was all he got in return, and Dick wished he could just stay on the line and whisper platitudes to Wally until he calmed down, but he needed to sprint, so he cut the connection and _ran._

* * *

The subway ride, although it only took twenty minutes, was the longest he'd ever experienced. Only? Who was he kidding? Any method of transportation that wasn't instantaneous was too long.

He had half-considered just jumping out of the train and running the rest of the way, and even though he knew it was logically impossible, he couldn't just _sit there_. So Dick paced down the length of the car, back and forth. Good thing it was a Gotham subway. No one even bothered to look at him once, much less twice.

Dick briefly wondered if Bruce and Alfred were having dinner. They were used to him randomly vanishing for hours by now. He knew that Alfred would leave a covered tray of food for him in the fridge with a note explaining how to reheat it.

Finally, _ finally_, the subway let him out at Central City platform. He pulled out the communicator and opened Wally's GPS coordinates and pressed a couple buttons. A map appeared along with a path to the blinking red dot that signalled his friend.

He sprinted down streets and took corners faster than he thought he could without spinning out. Dick pushed himself faster when he felt his legs failing, breathed harder when his lungs seized up, ignored any and all pain just to go faster, faster, _faster!_

When he reached the house that contained the dot, Dick finally stopped to collect himself. He really only gave himself about ten seconds but it was all he needed. Dick made sure his communicator was on silent, and then walked around the house. He saw an open window and swung himself through.

His feet were silent on the carpet, and Dick immediately wrinkled his nose. The entire room was permeated with the scent of smoke and alcohol. Several bottles of whiskey were stacked in the corner, and many more empty ones littered the floor.

He walked out of the room and into a living room apparently. There were even more bottles here, and many small piled of glass where they had been thrown against the walls. As Dick kept walking, he heard a snore and froze.

In the recliner placed in the corner of the room, lay a man probably in his late forties with dark brown hair, and his hand wrapped around a mostly empty bottle of some sort of alcohol. This must be Wally's father.

Dick barely, _barely_ resisted the urge to walk up to him and slice his throat. But first he had to find Wally, because he was more important than his alcoholic father ever would be.

Aside from the living room that opened into the kitchen and the other room, there was only two others. From here he could see a bathroom was one, and the other door was closed. He was about to walk down to the closed door, when he thought he heard-was it?

Yes. A faint whimper, barely there, from behind him. He walked back to the kitchen and crept inside. He didn't see anyone, just an old oven, a few drawers and the fridge.

_Oh, no way_, Dick thought as he slid towards the fridge. When he pulled it open, he was met with startled eyes, faintly blue lips, and blood. Blood everywhere.

"Wally!" Dick hissed as he moved to put a hand on his friend's shoulder.

Wally flinched, before allowing the contact and whispering, "Dick? Did you-did you come to save me?"

Dick's heart twisted painfully, but he still smiled and said, "Yeah, I'm here. Let's get you put of there. Why were you in the fridge?"

"I w-was hiding. It-t doesn't wor-rk very well." even so, Wally was still cold to the touch, and Dick needed to get him out of here now.

"C'mon, I gotcha. Let's get outta here." Dick slung one of Wally's arms over his shoulders and tried to ignore the blood dripping down Wally's face and back and everything.

They made it most of the way to the room Dick had entered from, when a rough, slurred voice spoke from behind them.

"There ya are, ya little devil."

Wally visabley flinched and Dick told him to get out the window before spinning around and facing Wally's dad. He was of average height, but clearly unsteady on his feet.

"Who're you?" He asked, pointing a shaky finger in Dick's direction.

Dick grinned as he backed up. "A lowly thief."

The man's eyes narrowed. "Boy, d'ya know what I do with thieves?"

When he felt his back hit the windowsill, Dick's grin widened even as his heart started to race. "What's that?"

"Shoot 'em."

Dick was halfway out the window and the bullet knocked him the rest of the way out. How the drunk man ever managed to hit him, he would never know.

He heard the gunshot a second later, it seemed. That's strange. Time wasn't moving quite properly.

Then came the pain. His back felt the pain splinter through him, and the world went white for a moment.

_Move,_ some voice in his head compelled him. And he listened.

He grabbed Wally's hand and ran. Where? He had no idea. He didn't even know how he was still doing it, when he should be on the ground in a puddle of his own blood.

Dick didn't hear Wally begging him to stop, didn't feel him pulling on his hand to slow him down. He couldn't to anything but run until they were safe, safe, safe.

Apparently, his brain decided that some park in the middle of town was safe. He pulled Wally into a copse of trees, and finally, blessedly _stopped._

Then he turned to Wally to check him over. He fainted almost as soon as Dick put his hands on him. Dick caught him, and went to check him over, but his vision was blurring, and the world was running together in a swirl of shadows.

With his last desperate action, he pulled out his communicator, and pressed the number that meant safe, protection, home.

_"Hello?"_ the gruff voice was all he needed to hear.

"Bruce." Was all he could manage. A desperate plea.

Then he fell, landing partially on top of Wally, hearing Bruce's worried cries follow him into unconsciousness.

_"Dick? What is it? Dick? Answer me! Dick!"_

* * *

Two chapters so close to one another? Unprecedented!

You all hate me for this cliffhanger, I'm sure. And you can blame Triscribe and the conversation we were having today.

(Blame her by reading her story and liking it ;D)


	12. Chapter 12

I had to write this soon, or I think you all would have risen up and murdered me.

I adore this love/hate relationship we have. Because almost invariably in every review, the jist was "I love this chapter, but HOW DARE YOU LEAVE IT THERE!" Good times.

Warnings-Blood, abuse, serious butt-kicking, torture (Also, I don't think I mentioned this. If my story ever dips too far into the dark and should be considered M, please let me know)

Flash POV (Barry Allen) (Oh, and for this story, Iris is aware that Barry is Flash)

* * *

Flash had been scarfing down on some chips, when he heard a beeping sound. He stopped chewing and tilted his head, unsure if he had just been hearing the crunchy chips. But no, there it was again.

Dropping the bag carelessly on the counter, Barry quickly patted himself down, then raced over to the couch and saw his blinking communicator. He flipped it open and said, "Hello? Flash speaking."

_"I know that. Look, I need you down here. Take the zeta-beam to the cave, now."_

"Jeez, Batman. Not even a hello? What's so important-?" Barry wandered back over to the counter to pick up the bag and peer inside to see if there were any chips left.

_"Your nephew, Wally."_

Barry dropped the bag and gripped the communicator tight. "What?" Was all he could get out past the knot of terror blocking his throat. _Batman_ was calling about Wally?

_"Get to the cave."_

It was all he needed.

He was in the machine typing in coordinates faster than the machine could process, then waited impatiently for it to whir to life.

The last time Batman had been involved with Wally, Flash had been much too far away. Technically, this time he was farther, seeing as he was in the Watchtower, miles away from Earth's surface, but the circumstances were different this time around.

This time, he could help.

* * *

**Five weeks ago**

Barry had been dreaming of falling, falling fast, but for some reason, it seemed right. No fear of going splat on the ground, or of going so fast he spontaneously ignited due to friction.

It had been nice, really, until the sound of his phone ringing jarred him awake.

Barry jerked his head off the pillow and inhaled sharply. Then he heard the ringing again and fumbled for his phone. "Hello? Who is this?"

_"Uncle Barry! It's Wally."_ There was something off about Wally but...

"Wally? What's wrong kiddo? Shouldn't you be in bed?" Next to him, Iris stirred and mumbled a vague questioning sound. Barry put his hand over the receiver and quietly said, "It's Wally."

_"I need your help, please!"_ Instantly, Barry snapped awake, all traces of sleepiness gone.

"What's going on?"

* * *

Barry cursed his luck. This week, they were doing repairs on a main highway that led to Gotham, so he would have to take longer detours to get there that added about twenty minutes to his time.

He couldn't just zoom over either, because Wally knew he had been at home. How could he explain the near instant transportation? He couldn't show up as Flash either. Wally was smart, and Barry doubted he'd believe him if he said something like, "I was coincidentally passing through I city I try to avoid and running down back alleys looking for small children who are hurt like yourselves."

He was a pretty bad liar.

Barry cursed again as he thought up different scenarios for what could be happening. For now, Wally didn't sound like he was running from someone, but that didn't mean that a defenseless kid on the street with another kid who's injured (apparently badly) wouldn't be attacked soon.

Why on earth had Rudolph let Wally go out tonight? He had said that Rudolph was with friends, but why would Wally leave? He's a good kid, and wouldn't just walk out of his house for no reason.

As Barry glanced at the clock and growled, some part of his mind was in hysterics at the irony. The world's fastest man, and he's too slow to save his nephew.

But there was somebody already in Gotham who could help.

Barry snatched his communicator from where he tossed it next to his phone in the cupholder. He dialed it in and when the line picked up, he immediately said, "Bruce, I need a favor."

* * *

When he picked up Wally and saw him safe, Barry thought his heart would give out from sheer happiness. But when he hugged him tightly, he noticed the bruises and scrapes that Wally sported. "Where did you get all these wounds?"

Wally mentioned something about being jumped, and then before Barry could ask any questions, he interjected, "Can we go home? I'm really tired."

Of course he couldn't say no to that, and true to his word, Wally fell asleep on the way home and stayed that way until Barry pulled up at home. There was no way that Barry was bringing Wally home when he felt so guilty about not being there. Plus he had no way to tell if Rudolph was actually home now.

He easily unbuckled a limp Wally and picked him up. God, he was light. Barry may have had enhanced strength, but it felt like he was holding a blanket in his arms, not a thirteen year old boy.

Iris said nothing as he walked in with Wally asleep in his arms and helped settle him on the couch. They walked into the kitchen where they could keep an eye on Wally without waking him up while they talked.

"Barry, what happened? You just ran off this morning and then come back with Wally like this?"

"Wally called me this morning and asked me to come get him. When I picked him up, he said he and a friend had gotten jumped. Fell asleep on the way home before I could ask anything else."

Iris gave Wally a worried glance, but sighed and smiled ruefully at Barry. "You're beating yourself up over not being there aren't you?"

He looked at the ground and let his shoulders slump. Iris laid a comforting hand on his shoulder and kissed his forehead. "It's not your fault, you know."

"But I wasn't there."

"I know. But contrary to your greatest efforts, you can't be everywhere at once. Not even you." She gently placed fingers under his chin and tilted his head up. His tired eyes met her sparkling ones, and he smiled. Just a bit.

"You know me too well."

Iris laughed. "But not nearly as well as I'd like." She kissed him once before withdrawing to order food for dinner.

* * *

When he woke up the next morning, he trotted down the stairs, only to have a mini-panic attack at seeing the couch empty, the blanket neatly folded and placed on the end.

Then he caught sight of the note placed on the end table. Wally had written his thanks for letting him stay, and saying that he was going home.

Barry let the note fall. He'd been hoping to spend the day with Wally, not to question him (although he might have done that) but to make it up to him. Iris kept trying to reassure him that it wasn't his fault, but he couldn't help it.

The next several weeks, both Barry and Flash were so caught up in work that he never had a chance to go over and see Wally.

* * *

**Back to ****Today**

Flash was instantly by Batman's side when the zeta beam deposited him in the Batcave.

"What's going on? Where's Wally? Is he okay?"

"Barry." Batman halted the flow of questions with a raised hand and firm voice. He was used to dealing with Flash by now.

"Sorry."

"Before you go rushing off, I need to explain some things first, so_stay here_ and _listen_." At Barry's nod, he continued. "Yes, I know where he is, but I'm uncertain if he's injured. Also..." Batman trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

"What? We're wasting time here!"

Batman glared at him. "I know. This information might be a bit uncomfortable for you to process. First, my new ward, Dick Grayson is also with Wally, and I know he is injured."

"That's not a problem, I can get both of them." Flash was buzzing in place with the effort of holding still. He wouldn't have known where to run anyway, because Batman had made certain not to tell him yet. That cunning-

"That's not what will bother you. Look, there's not a good way to say this, so I'll be blunt. Your brother-in-law Rudolph West has been physically and probably emotionally abusing Wally for years."

The force of the words hit Barry so hard that he stopped moving entirely. Instead, his brain was buzzing about, trying to process the words.

Wally? Abused? No. He'd become much quieter after his mother's death, and started coming over later at night, but also with less frequency. But that was nothing, right?

Barry hadn't even _seen_ Rudolph in three years. He knew he'd been drinking a bit more than normal, and his already short temper had grown shorter, but...abusing his son?

Batman watched the thoughts play out on Barry's face as he continued talking. "Wally was never jumped. Dick was the friend he was talking about, but Dick was beaten several days earlier and had developed pneumonia. Wally's injuries were caused by his father. It's probably why he came to Gotham."

"I...what?" Barry felt almost on the verge of tears. Now that it was pointed out to him, he could see all the pieces lining up.

Wally flinching faintly whenever Barry went to high-five him. Wally eating anything that was put on his plate and praising it to high heaven. Wally going pale and backing away the one time Barry had had a sip of beer (he hadn't drank in front of Wally ever again). Wally passing off so many bruises and scrapes as clumsiness.

Now, Barry Allen is not stupid, nor was he willingly ignoring this. He is an eternal optimist, and sometimes it makes it hard to see things he doesn't want to. He never connected all the pieces that would have made it obvious what was going on.

"Where is Wally?" Barry didn't recognize his own voice, cold and hard as he asked Batman. He had retreated into some part of his brain and let years of superheroing and police training take over.

"Lee Memorial Park." Barely before Batman finished, Flash was gone.

He knew where he had to be.

* * *

It took a little under two minutes to dash to Central City and into the park. FLash stopped on a dime and looked around. It was late at night, so there was no one in the park.

_Think, where would they have come in from?_ he furiously questioned himself. Rudolph's house was pretty close to here, but it was a couple streets over. He zipped over there and looked towards the park again.

_Okay, they'd probably come this way_,he reasoned as he started to walk deeper into the park. A bush was trampled, then a few branches snapped up ahead. He followed the trail of plant carnage, until he saw the two boys, crumpled on the ground.

"Wally!" he cried as he dashed to him. Flash knelt next to the two boys, face going pale when he moved to lift the darker haired boy (Dick, a quiet voice called from the back of his head) and saw a large bloodstain covering his lower back.

Cursing like a sailor (and hoping the boys weren't awake to hear him), he lifted Dick gently off Wally and held him on his lap. He checked for an exit wound, and found a small one on the boy's left hip. He pressed one of his hands to the one on his back, while looking at Wally.

Bruises outnumbered the amount of normal skin that showed, and there was a gash on the side of Wally's head that lead dangerously close to his eye. It curved right below his left eye, and was still bleeding. He grew even angrier when he could make out faint remains of tear tracks in the moonlight.

With his free hand, he fumbled for his communicator, trying to push the right buttons with his blood-slicked fingers. Batman picked up immediately and said, _"I'm right outside the park, I'll be at your location in a minute."_

True to his word, Batman appeared soon, and instantly took Flash's place at Dick's side. He drew gauze out from his belt and pressed it to the wound, before tightly wrapping his stomach in a quick bandage.

"Grab Wally and get back to he cave. Alfred has the medbay prepped. I'll be there as soon as I can." Once again, as soon as the bat's words left his lips, Flash was gone, trying to run both as fast and as smoothly as possible.

He cradled Wally tightly in his arms, wishing he could still perform Iris's old trick from when Wally was little and have hugs take away the pain.

* * *

Alfred guided Flash to the medical bay, and started taking care of Wally. Flash sat in a chair and watched from a distance, lost in his own head. He flinched with every stitch that was put in, and was almost sick when he saw the bruises covering ribs that stuck out of Wally's thin torso.

Finally, he was cleaned up, just as the Batmobile rushed inside. Immediately Alfred followed Batman into another room. Distantly, the part of him that had been hiding hoped that the boy was okay. He looked even younger than Wally, but was more malnourished, if that was possible.

Flash had no idea how long he'd sat in his silent vigil next to Wally, but he was startled out of his revere when he heard panicked murmuring. Instantly, he was by Wally's side, and threw his cowl back. Flash was gone and Barry came back at the sight of his nephew stirring. "Wally?" he asked breathlessly.

Hazy eyes met his. "Uncle Barry," was what he thought Wally said. It sounded more like "Nka Bury."

"Shh, buddy. I'm right here. It's okay, you're safe now. Your friend is too."

"Dick?"

"Yeah, he's going to be fine. And so are you. I'm here now. I promise you'll be safe."

"Pr'mise?"

"Yeah," he said as he smoothed Wally's bright hair. "I promise."

With that Wally's eyes fluttered shut and he fell back asleep.

Barry stayed like that for a few more minutes, just stroking Wally's hair and whispering that he was safe. When he finally left the medical bay, Batman was sitting at his computer, cowl back and looking more tired than Barry had ever seen him.

"Is he gonna be alright?"

Bruce looked up and him and nodded once. Nothing more.

"I'm going to take Wally home. I have something I need to do."

Bruce watched him as he zipped back to the medbay to pick up Wally, then stop in front of Batman when he spoke. "Don't kill him."

Flash froze for a moment, and then sped out of the cave. He couldn't promise anything tonight.

* * *

Barry gently set Wally in the spare bedroom and went to find Iris. Briefly he wondered if he should be worried that Wally saw him in uniform, then realized that Wally could barely see him through the swollen eye from the cut, even if he did remember tonight's events.

After tersely explaining to Iris in the briefest of conversations, she told him to go get Rudolph, and make him pay. He may be her brother, but Iris would not stand for this.

It only took a minute to reach Rudolph's house, and he opened the door silently and stepped in. He heard rattling and the faint noise of the television before a loud voice shouted at him.

"Boy, issat you? Di'n't you learn your lesson the first time?" Rudolph stood in the entry to the hallway, but froze when he saw Flash. "You're the Flash." He said dumbly.

"Yes I am. I found out an interesting fact about you today, from a young boy I met." He took a few slow steps forward as he felt the anger bubble in him. "He was bruised all over and asked me to help him."

Yes, he started lying here, but if Wally had been conscious, their conversation might have gone this way.

"I asked him what happened, and he said his father beat him. Even after," Flash found he enjoyed the look of sheer _terror_ on Rudolph's face, "he begged him to stop. Pleaded for him to stop hitting him."

"I didn't do nothing."

Flash's fist was as fast as his name. So was the second and third. "Oh really?" He asked as Rudolph gasped on the ground, clutching his stomach. "So the blood on your floor is someone else's?" A swift kick to the ground had Rudolph shrieking in pain. "The 'lesson' you were talking about was for someone else?"

The fear in Rudolph's eyes when Flash held him up at eye level by his hair made the burning anger gleeful. "You want to lie to me right now, and say that you didn't beat your son 'til he was bleeding and broken?"

"No." Rudolph whimpered. "Please stop."

That.

Those two words made his vision go red.

Flash dropped him and slowly advanced as Rudolph tried to scuttle backwards. "Did you stop when your son asked you that? The first time? What about all the others?"

Rudolph hysterically shook his head, and Flash raised his fist, knowing that if he hit him once, right in the back on the head, he'd be dead in an instant.

He lashed out faster than any human eye could follow.

And hit Rudolph square in the mouth.

He screamed and fell backwards, writhing in agony. Shards of teeth coated in blood spilled into Rudolph's hands and Flash calmly spoke over his cries.

"You deserve to die. But not fast. You deserve to rot in jail until you understand, until you feel every second of agony your son ever felt. And in your last moments, you can understand how awful you truly are."

And with that, he punched Rudolph in the temple and he fell to the ground.

* * *

Turning Rudolph over to the police was harder than Barry thought it would be. He still did it, but...

The next week was crazy. Wally spent most recovering, so the police (really just Barry and a trusted friend) took pictures of Wally's extensive bruises and scars as evidence against Rudolph. Then he had to be told that his father was arrested.

The emotions flickered plainly across Wally's face. Sadness, joy, terror, and finally relief, and it was at that point that Wally flung himself at his Uncle and sobbed his thanks for a good hour.

Barry and Iris gained custody of Wally, and Rudolph was imprisoned for life.

It wasn't all perfect, but it was a start.

After all, no happy ending can happen without a beginning.

* * *

There. Happy now?

God, Rudolph deserved worse, but I don't think it's in Flash's nature to kill (even if I would have done it. Slowly. Very slowly. God, he would have been begging me to kill him. _Anyway_...). Hopefully the people in jail will find out he's a child abuser and gang up on him.

To the lovely guests who commented, thank you!

And to the guest who apologized, it's not a problem. At all, I swear. But thank you for saying something anyway :)

I know no one will care about this little tidbit of my life: So I went to the doctor's the other day, and my doctor keeps stickers in her office for her younger patients but I was looking at them and found a Batman sticker!

I totally kept it.

Happy New Year, by the way.

Also (Sorry for the long note) but you people who wanted daddybats fluff, check for that next chapter (which won't be nearly as soon as I've been updating)


	13. Chapter 13

Hey guys. I know you probably hate me for leaving so long, but you'll hate me more at the end of this. And for how short this is. Sorry. I have midterms tomorrow so I tried to crank this out quickly tonight.

**IMPORTANT!** Please read the note at the end.

Warning: Fluff and akward bats.

* * *

The bullet wound in Dick back had taken weeks to heal. Now, it still throbbed painfully when he moved, but at least he _could_ move.

Both Alfred and Bruce had strictly relegated him to bedrest. The first week he'd barely been able to think through the pain and drugs, the second he agreed because he was terrified of Alfred (and what he could do with a feather duster).

The third... not so much.

* * *

At the beginning of the week, Dick had been restless and deemed himself well enough to move. So he had slowly pulled off the covers and crept out of his room, partially terrified that Alfred would use his superhearing and catch him out of his room.

But as he slunk down the hallway and no feather dusters impaled him, Dick grew more confident. He got to the staircase and smirked deviously. He kicked hard off the ground and landed on his hands on the banister.

Concentrating hard, he placed one hand in front of the other to slowly walk down the railing. He could do it faster, but this was to test his limits, not to goof off (okay, maybe a bit, but he was shot in the back).

He was almost to the bottom when he heard someone shout. Dick flinched and misplaced his hand, the other one losing it's grip on the banister as he tilted into open air. Although brief (he couldn't have been more than a few feet off the ground), the feeling of falling paralyzed him. He couldn't make his body rotate so it would land safely and all he could think was nonononononono.

Then he hit something hard, but not the floor. Two solid bars of support wrapped around him, keeping his small form from smashing off the ground. A loud buzzing noise filled Dick's ears. It faded after a few seconds, and he could hear someone calling his name.

Dick looked up into Bruce's worried face, surprised, before his brain could process everything. Once it did, he blushed and struggled to be free of Bruce's arms. "I'm fine."

When he was standing on his own feet again, he could see the shift come over Bruce's face. Any trace of concern was wiped out and replaced by seething anger.

"What were you thinking?! You could have broken your neck, and you're not even recovered from being _shot in the back_!"

Dick looked away from the furious stare, and Bruce sighed. "I'm sorry. Just-go back to bed." He looked like he wanted to say something else, but the moment was lost after Dick turned to walk back up the stairs.

* * *

Now it was Saturday, and Dick had (_finally_) been cleared to move as long as he was "extremely careful". Clearly Dick couldn't be trusted to do that, so Bruce had brought him down to the Batcave so he could keep an eye on him.

Bruce had said something like letting him explore his new home a bit, but Dick knew he was only there to make sure he didn't do anything stupid.

At first, Alfred had kept him occupied by chatting with him, but he had to go clean other areas of the house, so he interrogated Bruce on how the computer works and got a crash course on computers, decrypting, and hacking. That was fun for a while until Bruce glanced at the digital clock and stood up.

"I'm going to train for a bit. You're welcome to join me, or return to your room."

Dick looked up from the stream of letters on the screen that he was trying to make sense of. "Train?"

Bruce laughed, a rare sight. "Come with me. I'll show you."

He eagerly hopped up from his computer-side vigil and bounced after Bruce. They entered a big room filled with gym equipment and a wall lined with weapons.

Dick's eyes were immediately drawn to the bars in the back, simple ones that were the only piece of acrobatic equipment in the room. Just looking at them brought back memories of smiles and blood, flying and falling.

He was brought out of his stupor by Bruce moving across the room to wrap his wrists in fabric. The man then strectched for a minute or two before going to a punching bag and slamming a punch into it. Bruce beat up the bag for a few minutes while Dick watched in fascination.

One last spinning back kick left the bag rocking on it's chain and Bruve grabbed it to stop it's motion. "Woah," was all Dick had to say on that matter.

Bruce shot him an amused glance as he moved to the large boxing ring in the center of the room. "You've seen me fight before. Why so surprised now?"

"That was different. Then I was running for my life and was more grateful that you pummled someone to keep me alive than to stand in awe of how hard you punched him."

Bruce snorted, and took a fighting stance. Then slowly, purposefully, he ran through attack after attack, throwing in the occasional odd movement in there. "What are you doing?"

"It's a kata. Basically a set of movements that correpond to real attacks. Like this one," he paused to quickly switch the position of his hands, "that would have broken your neck if I'd been holding your head."

Dick kept watching as Bruce completed his kata in a few more moves before quietly asking, "Can you show me how to do that? The kata?"

Bruce looked over at him, surprised, before smiling and waving him over.

* * *

"And I get pancakes for breakfast and I can eat a lot because Uncle Barry does and Aunt Iris is so nice!" Dick laughed and sat down on the corner of his bed.

"I'm sure she's amazing. What do you put on your waffles? Or do you just inhale them and hope some of the flavor lands on your tongue?" Wally gasped in mock shock and instantly lauched into a tirade of the wonders of breakfast food and Dick listened, content to let his friend talk himself into oblivion.

They were talking on cellphones their respective caretakers had gotten them, because Bruce decided it would be better than using the communicators all the time.

The first time Dick had called Wally after waking up, he was bombarded with hysterical concern over his well-being, and when that wore out, Wally broke down and cried for an hour or so. Dick just listened, murmering sweet nothings into the phone to try and calm his friend down.

Their first meeting in real life had gone similarly, once Dick had asked Bruce if Wally could visit him because Dick was still on bedrest. Wally ending up clinging to Dick until his tears ran out and he offered Dick a weak smile that he returned in full.

"Are you listening? Dick?"

"Yes, and I think strawberries are better on waffles than blueberries."

"No! That's it, we're not friends anymore!" Dick laughed as Wally ranted at him, happy that he was energetic enough to ream him for liking the "wrong" fruit.

* * *

It had been a few weeks since Bruce had started training him, and Dick was a fast learner. He had the capability and reflexes from theiving, and it helped because Dick was a small boy. Very small, despite Alfred's best efforts to fatten him up. Being small was fine, but you needed to be faster than your opponent.

For days now, Dick had been nagging Bruce to take him out on the streets with him, to test his abilities. Bruce had been adamant, because Penguin was on the loose, but he had been caught last night, so Bruce relelented.

* * *

"Remember, this is just a test to see if you can survive on your own. Don't do anything fancy or stupid. You'll be killed." Dick nodded solomely, because even though he already knew it, it never hurt to be reminded that yes, he could die.

They both stood on a rooftop, Dick dressed in a black hoodie and pants, wearing a smaller version of Batman's mask. They couldn't risk him being identified if it came to that. Better safe than sorry.

A scream from a few streets over was their cue and both of them raced towards the sound. Batman stayed on the roof while Dick jumped silently onto the ground, landing behind a man that was pointing a gun at a frightened teen. The teen's eyes widened as he saw Dick land, but wisely said nothing.

"C'mon, that can't be all ya got." He shook the gun at the teen, when he heard an ominous cackle. He swung around but saw nothing in the dark. "Who's there?"

A punch to the jaw was the only answer the man recieved, and Dick quickly took the gun from his slack hands. He also found a wallet, which he tossed at the older boy in front of him. "This was yours, right?"

He got a nod before the teen muttered his thanks and dashed out of the alley. "Could've at least stayed for a bit."

"He was rather terrified. I don't blame him for running." Dick looked backwards and up into the cowl and grinned.

"So how'd I do?"

"Aside from the unessecary cackle-" As he spoke, Dick saw something glimmer deeper in the alley and shoved Batman hard. It didn't move him much (Dick wasn't_ that_ strong), but it made the small metal object bury itself in the wall instead of his neck.

Batman whirled around and found a dart gun lying abandoned on the ground, it's user nowhere to be found. Dick went to touch the dart but Batman said, "Don't. It's probably poisoned." Instead, he picked it up with his gloved hand and deposited it in a pocket in his utility belt.

* * *

When they got back to the cave, Bruce immediately vanished to examine both dart and gun, and Dick was left to explain what happened to Alfred. The butler congratulated him on a succesful outing, although it was marred by the unknown attacker.

Dick went into the training room to work off some of the remaining adrenaline, and stayed that way until Bruce called out, "You did well tonight."

He turned to look at Bruce, standing in the doorway with the cowl flipped back onto his shoulders. The man moved closer and then coughed, shuffling akwardly. "What's wrong?" Dick asked, slightly amused at Bruce's discomfort.

The man looked at him, entirely serious. "Would you like to work beside me as my partner?"

Dick froze. "You mean..." he trailed off, unable to belive it.

"You proved that you can protect yourself, and others tonight, and your reflexes are sharper than mine. If you don't want to-"

"No! I do!" Dick took a few steps until he was within arm's reach. "Please?"

"Well, I believe if you're going to be a hero, you'll need a costume and an alias, Master Richard." Alfred said as he appeared from thin air.

Suddenly he was struck with a memory, a faint thing that he barely remembered.

"My little robin." a soft voice called to him from the recesses of his mind.

"Robin." Dick said with absolute certainty. "My name is Robin."

* * *

Thanks for reading this note, for those of you who actually bother to read them.

Alright, so bad news first: I'm taking a few months off of this story. DON'T PANIC! I'm coming back, but I have tests soon and life has been... Yeah. So while I'm gone, don't ask me to update, because you're wasting time.

Anyway, I won't be entirely stagnant. This will give me a chance to write fics for other fandoms (because this monstrosity has taken away all my time XD) AND...

While I'm gone, I want you guys to help me write the next few chapters by alphabet. So basically, you give me a word or two (no more than fiveish. I just don't want like, a sentence.) that starts with the letter (y'know a for apple b for blood) and I will write a chapter for it. They probably won't be connected, just little blurbs.

Rules: Please don't use people as your prompt (so no w is for wally). Keep it clean, people. I will not write people in love, or having graphic sex, but I have no problem killing/maiming them (remember, these will be canon so no killing main characters).

Oh, and check the reviews to make sure everyone isn't doing the same letter, because I can only pick one(If it gets really bad, I'll post a new "chapter" requesting the letters I need)

Sorry for the long ramling XP

Please review with comments, concerns, and questions!


	14. Chapter 14

**Aha, hi, here I am. Not dead. Here, have a chapter out of nowhere.**

_A is for Alone_

* * *

For several years of Dick's life, alone was a foreign concept. His mother and father slept on either side of him in their tiny trailer. They were never more than a fingers width apart (except on the hot nights where he would sleep on the roof, under the stars).

There were always people in the circus. That's just how it was. A lion tamer leading their companions, clowns practicing acts, acrobats getting ready for the show. And when the crowds came, there was barely room to _breathe _much less fathom the concept of alone.

The closest Dick ever came to understanding "alone" in those early years was when he managed to sneak away, out of the circus and into whatever city they happened to be in. If he was really lucky, the city would be on the edge of the sea, or forest, or just an empty lot with no one around.

But even then, Dick always knew that his family was waiting for him back home. Alone to him was a temporary state.

Then alone became all too permanent.

* * *

Despite being full of people, Gotham Juvie was the first place Dick had felt truly alone in life. Six months of that gray, desolate hell solidified Dick's feelings of loneliness.

The other inmates either ignored him or enjoyed pounding his face into the bricks, the dirt, whatever was available really. The counselor assigned to him was about as effective as trying to hurt Superman with a cotton ball. And the man responsible for trying to get him adopted, or have a spot for him in the orphanage, well...

After the visiting Dick once, he never came back.

Living on the streets actually felt less lonely than Juvie. Less lonely, and yet Dick was more alone than he'd been in his entire life.

Either way, Dick was free here. Free to be nobody, a person without a past, a family, or anyone to care about. The first year, he was in and out of shelters, never staying long enough for anyone to try to get him into the orphanage, but long enough for him to find his own place and ways to get food.

He managed to find a rythym, strange as it was. The days became monotone, interspersed with running for his life. Alone became Dick's way of life, his identity, his whole being.

Meeting people who actually _cared_ whether Dick lived or not was strange. Selina was the first, and only for a while. Then he met Batman, Alfred, Wally, Flash, and a few others. And they cared.

But Dick was still alone.

* * *

"Master Richard! I just polished that banister and I would appreciate if you stopped getting your handprints all over it." Dick grinned and jumped off the banister and onto the lower floor.

"Sorry, Alf. I'll help you clean it when I get home."

A half-smile came in return. "So I take it you will be visiting Master Wallace for the day?" Dick nodded, hiking his backpack higher on his shoulder. "And I suppose the two of you would enjoy some cookies for a snack?"

Dick's face lit up, a smile naturally lighting his lips. "Have I told you that you are the absolute best butler I have ever met?"

"Yes, but I assure you, I do not tire of the praise."

With a bag of cookies in hand, Dick dashed to the library, down into the Batcave, and took the Zeta tube into Gotham. Normally he would've gone straight to Central City, but apparently one of Flash's regulars had demolished it yesterday. Batman was over there fixing it (and trying to ignore Flash as long as possible).

The streets of Gotham were so familiar that with barely a thought, Dick was halfway to the train station without even thinking. The sudden interjection of "In a hurry Birdie?" stopped Dick in his tracks.

With an easy grin, he replied, "Yeah, but I have enough time to stop and feed the cats."

"I believe the expression is 'stop and smell the roses'"." Selina hopped down from a nearby fire escape and ruffled Dick's hair.

"Nothing here I want to smell. But I have a train to catch, so here, have a cookie," he said as he offered one to Selina.

"If only you had sapphires for me, you'd be the perfect man." Selina kissed his head goodbye before he dashed off. She quickly dissapeared when the sound of police sirens split the air.

The train ride barely took any time at all, and the twin looks of sheer excitement on Wally and Barry's faces when Dick showed them the cookies was well worth the wait.

Four hours, a bag of cookies, three bowls of popcorn and eight sandwiches, Wally had slightly taken the edge off his hunger and Dick had to go. It had taken ten minutes alone to try to pry Wally off him ("_No,_ I can't stay. I have to get back. Alfred's making dinner, and I don't want to miss that.").

Dick had hardly walked more than a block from Barry's house when the Batmobile pulled up beside him. The hood slid off, revealing Batman inside. "Are you getting in?"

Dick grinned and hopped in next to the Dark Knight.

Maybe Dick wasn't as alone as he thought.

* * *

**Okay, so first of all, thank you to everyone who has been patient enough to wait for me to update, I love you all and I cannot thank you enough for your continued support. The sheer amount of views and favorites this got just knocked me off my feet.**

**Stuff happened, I fell out of my writing groove, but I'm back with my story! I don't really like this chapter, but the next will be better. Only this one should be this backstory heavy, so more dialouge in the next one. I'll try to keep my schedule for a chapter every two weeks, but if I can get anything earlier, I'll post it.**

**I hope anyone attending school has had a good beginning to the school year, and thanks for reading this!**

**If you have any questions, please ask!**


	15. Chapter 15

This chapter did not want to be written. This is my fifth rewrite and I'm still not happy, but it's been almost two months and you guys deserve a chapter.

Also, apologies about any background inaccuracies on the characters. And also, sorry to anyone who lives in Kansas (you'll find out why later).

**B is for Babysitting**

* * *

"Come on Dick, buddy, where are you?" Curious, Superman floated around towards the shouting. Flash was dashing back and forth, checking under plants, around corners, clearly on the edge of hysteria. For a moment, Superman was content to just watch the speedster move fast enough to become barely perceptible to even his inhuman eyes. When Flash suddenly turned and dashed towards him, Superman shot an arm out and caught him by the collar.

"What are you doing?" Instantly, Flash's face transformed from worried to "I-totally-haven't-done-anything-wrong".

"Whaaaat? I'm not doing anything. But I gotta go do...something. Rescue kittens and whatnot. Bye!" Superman rolled his eyes as Flash tried to run despite the fact that he was being held two feet off the ground. When Flash (finally) realized that this was pointless, he looked up at Superman and then immediately looked away. He lasted all of ten seconds (a new record) before finally crying out, "I lost the kid, don'ttellBatmanhe'llkillme."

"You did what?" Kid? What kid?

"I may have lost Robin?"

Inhaling slowly through his nose, Superman took a moment to process that. "How did you lose him? Why is he even in the Watchtower?"

"Bats said he needed someone to watch the kid while he went off-world to meet some contact of his."

"Batman trusted you?" Batman would probably sooner let Joker out of Arkham than do that.

"Of course not! He asked Green Lantern, but then some trouble came up and J'onn asked Lantern to go with him into space, and since no one else was here, he had to leave Robin with me."

"So how did you lose him? It's not like he can run fast enough to get away from you."

Flash's face turned sheepish. "I was showing him around the Tower when I turned around and poof!" Flash waggled his fingers for effect. "Gone! I've been running around for the last ten minutes trying to find him. But he's not anywhere!" Suddenly, Flash grinned. Superman hated that grin.

"What?"

"You could use your powers to help me find him! Pleeeeeeeeeeeeease?" For a grown man, Flash's puppy eyes were surprisingly effective.

Rolling his eyes, Superman shushed Flash as he put him down and then listened intently for Robin. His own heartbeat and Flash's were the loudest, but very close by, there was a smaller, faster one. Just as Superman opened his mouth to tell Flash, a staticy voice came over the intercom.

"Aw, using super powers is totally cheating. Where's the fun in finding me like that?" Flash gasped and looked up at the ceiling, but Superman was more focused on the tiny voice coming from his communicator. "Don't tell Flash where I am. It's fun to watch him run around in a panic."

Superman considered this for a second. "Since he's clearly hacked the communication systems, he must be in the control room. Why don't you check there?" The sentence was barely out of his mouth before Flash was dashing off to try to "find" Robin.

Superman flew over to the air vent and looked through it. Sure enough, Robin was on his stomach inside, small wrist computer lighting up his wicked grin. "Decided to play along?"

"For now." Superman was finding it hard not to grin himself. "How long have you been planning this?"

"Ah, it was just a spur of the moment thing." Robin flapped his hand in dismissal. "I saw the vent and his back was turned so why not?" Briefly, Robin diverted his attention to the wrist computer, tapping it quickly. Flash's screams emanated down the hallway.

Superman decided to ignore that for the moment and continue the first conversation he'd had with Robin that didn't include arguing. "I didn't know you knew how to use a computer."

"Batman's been teaching me. And Alfred too." Was that water rushing through the halls? "Best teachers available."

"I'm sure. I had to learn how to use them on the fly when I moved to Metropolis. Apparently, it's rather hard to be a reporter in this day and age without at least knowing how to access the internet." Boy, that had been a wake up call. His boss at the time hadn't been very forgiving of mistakes either.

"Where are you from?"

Superman was surprised. Robin hadn't shown very much interest in the other heroes yet. But, to try to help further his relationship with the kid (after all, it was never a bad idea to get on the good side of a Bat), Superman was willing to deal with his questions. "Originally? Krypton. I grew up in a farm in Kansas, though. Not exactly a good place to learn how to use computers."

"What's Krypton?"

"What, Batman didn't let you read all the files he has on the Justice League?" That explains why the kid was curious. Superman assumed he already knew about everyone.

"No." Dick pouted a little. "And I couldn't hack them yet either." The next few jabs of his keyboard were especially vicious, and Superman winced for whatever Flash was screaming about now. The Watchtower did have quite the arsenal of defense systems.

Superman let himself grin this time. "Well, if you come down, we can go somewhere more comfortable," Superman eyed the dusty vent with distaste. "Where Flash can't find us. And in return, I'll tell you about Krypton. Or anything else you want to know. I have a pretty good rundown on the other Leaguers."

Robin considered it for a moment, and then nodded his agreement. Superman yanked the vent cover off, the bolts plinging to the floor in shards. He made a mental note to let someone know to fix it later. Robin jumped down and landed softly. "Alright, where should we go?"

"The one room that Flash would never check."

* * *

"Are you sure Flash won't check here? It seems like the first place he'd check." Robin glanced surreptitiously around the League's "family room". It was the only place the Leaguers would hang out together, aside from meeting specifically in their personal lives or fighting off enemies.

"Exactly. But there's not many places to hide here, so he probably ruled it out after a cursory check. And I'm certain that you're now keeping him very occupied on the other side of the Watchtower." Robin was already tapping away again on his wrist computer, determined to mess with Flash as much as possible.

After basking in the renewed sound of screams, Robin glanced at Superman. Clark would almost say he looked bashful, but he couldn't associate that word with Dick. "So what's Krypton?"

"The planet I was born on. It was very far from Earth, and the people were much more advanced there. Their civilization had existed for a few thousand years before Earth's did, so they had extra time to work with."

"Was?"

"It was destroyed. The core became unstable and the planet exploded." Anticipating the next question, he continued, "My parents sent me away in an escape pod just before the explosion. I landed in my Pa and Ma's field and they adopted me."

Robin smiled. "They just took the baby out of the smoking rocket that destroyed their field and decided to keep it?"

Superman returned the smile. "That's what they tell me anyway."

"So what's Kansas like? I've never been to the mid-west."

"Flat. Anywhere that's not a city is farmland for miles on end. The closest neighbors to my Pa's farm were eight miles down the road euther way." Superman outright laughed at the utter confusion on Robin's face. "Never been somewhere like that?"

"No! There's always been people, no matter where I travelled as a kid. And Gotham's full of 'em." Dick huffed. "They're like rats. Everywhere." Turning his attention back to Superman, Robin asked, "So how did you end up forming the League?"

"Lots and lots of arguing." Superman smirked at the memories, funny now although they definitely hadn't been then, before launching into the story.

* * *

Half an hour passed of Superman answering any questions Dick asked, and even asking some of his own. The hum of the zeta beam was audible, even for Robin. His head perked up, although it fell once he saw that Batman wasn't the one to walk though the doors. Instead Green Lantern and Martian Manhunter both stopped in the doorway, staring curiously at Robin.

"Who's the pipsqueak?" Hal asked, trudging in and flopping down in a chair opposite Robin's.

"I am not a pipsqueak!"

"His name is Robin. Batman's partner." Robin's annoyed shout partially overcame Superman's words, but Hal caught the gist of it.

Giving him a quick once over, he apologized to Robin. "Sorry, buddy. Didn't mean to offend you." Although he still looked a little miffed, Hal's easy-going nature made Robin relax.

"Hello again, Richard." J'onn drifted in to perch on the edge of one of the plush couches. "My apologies for not being able to greet you properly last time we met."

Dick frowned before realizing what J'onn meant. "Oh, don't worry about that. You weren't exactly fit for saying hello at that point." J'onn accepted that with a flicker of a smile and a nod.

"So why are you here, and not hanging with Batman?" Hal asked.

"He said he was meeting some alien god and didn't want me to run my mouth and end up as a human sacrifice. I didn't have anyone else to stay with, so he left me with Flash." The mischeivious grin returned to Robin's face.

"Where is Flash anyway? He doesn't usually try to royally piss off the Bat. Annoy, maybe, but I don't think he'd casually avoid doing something like this."

"I may or may not be using the Tower's defense systems to lead him on a wild goose chase around the Tower. Besides, Supes is watching me now, so it's fine." A particuarly loud crash echoed from downstairs, and Robin chuckled menacingly.

Hal raised an eyebrow, looked down at the floor, and back up at Robin. He promptly said, "I like the kid. Can we keep him?"

* * *

Batman returned forty minutes after Hal and J'onn returned. Flash had grown increasingly more panicked, but with a few diversions from all the heroes in the Watchtower (including Wonder Woman, who came in shortly after J'onn) he'd managed to continually run around the Tower the entire time.

There had been a close call when Flash came careening into the living room to look for Robin, but J'onn had quickly grabbed him and floated into another room until Flash left.

Wonder Woman had been very interested in the little boy with the wicked smile in the Watchtower, and they had become fast friends. She was just as happy as the others to assist him in avoiding Flash. The two of them were discussing how her jet can become invisible when the zeta beam hummed again in the other room.

Superman was pleased to see Batman come into the room, although Dick was clearly much more excited. Flipping over the couch, he ran up to Batman, stopping just before him. "What took you so long?"

"Despite what you may think, negotiating with gods isn't fun, easy, or any less prone than giving me headaches than spending time around Flash." Batman glanced around the room, nodding a hello to the assembled Leaguers.

Robin snorted. "Well, I had fun messing with Flash all night."

Batman raised an eyebrow and would have asked what he meant but at that exact moment, Flash blurred into the room, almost running into Batman. Dick had barely enough time to hide under the Dark Knight's cape.

"Bats! Hey, you're back!" Flash was utterly disheveled, still wet and with his clothes torn in several spots from burns and cuts. "You're back early."

No one could ever say that Bruce was a stupid man. "Negotiations didn't take as long as I thought. Where's Robin?"

Flash's face paled several shades. "I-uh, well..."

Batman loomed menacingly over Flash. "You didn't lose him did you?" Superman was trying very hard not to laugh, and Hal was also very close to losing that battle. Wonder Woman had her lips pressed tightly together to keep from smiling.

Flash lasted all of three seconds before squeaking, "Yes, yes I lost him, please don't kill me, blame Superman, he wouldn't help me, I'm sorry!" He curled tighter in on himself with every word, and Batman continued to loom.

Flash was practically whimpering by the time Batman said, "Well, it's a good thing I found him then, isn't it?" Pulling back his cape, Bruce revealed Robin curled up around his legs. Flash just collapsed in relief, and babbled nonsensically for a good five minutes or so.

Batman and Robin walked over to the others, who had finally lost it and started laughing. Even J'onn was smiling.

"Thank you for taking care of Robin." Batman sincerely thanked them.

"Not a problem. He's pretty fun to be around." Hal fist bumped Dick and then went back to laughing at Flash's babbling.

"I agree. It was very nice to meet you." Diana knelt and hugged Dick for half a second.

"You too." Glancing back at Superman, Dick added, "Thanks for playing along today. Maybe you're not all that bad to hang out with."

With that, the two started heading to the zeta portal. Dick dashed over to Flash for a second to whisper briefly in his ear. Then, he bounded off after Batman.

Superman wondered what Robin meant. "Today is Father's day," held no particular meaning to Superman. Although he really should call his Pa and chat with him for a while.

* * *

You guys are the greatest for sticking with me so far. Thanks for all the support!


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